


Seasons Change

by shirozora



Category: Black Panther (2018), Black Panther (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Infinity War didn't happen here, M/M, What Have I Done, freewheeling Jabari headcanons, freewheeling Wakanda headcanons, multiple viewpoints told through different narrative styles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-05-16 20:12:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 54,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14818100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirozora/pseuds/shirozora
Summary: When Damisa-Sarki comes down from the mountains, follow him."We have nothing to gain from fighting his battles, from spilling our blood in his name. When it is over, he will turn his back to us. He will not care once he has his throne back."Are you not the Great Gorilla? Are you not the pride of your people? Be their voice. Make Damisa-Sarki listen. The Jabari will not be forgotten again.-----A fisherman finds a dying king in his nets and Hanuman offers M'Baku an opportunity to repay T'Challa for sparing his life at Warrior Falls.





	1. Gorilla

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in these spaces in a very long time. Figures that it took Taika Waititi and Ryan Coogler to make me care about the MCU again.
> 
> I haven't seen IW for Reasons so this story will have nothing to do with that movie. I scoured the Internet and searched through old comics until I had all sorts of headaches but didn't find the information I wanted so there is a LOT of headcanoning and reckless mixing of comics and movieverse canons going on here. Most geographical information was pulled from _The Art of Black Panther_. Please forgive but do not correct me on whatever canon errors I might've made. I cannot keep up with interviews, articles, deleted scenes, decades of comics, and whatnot, but I hope I wrote a coherent story.
> 
>  
> 
> Why can't I write a nice simple shippy fic I swear......

A fisherman found him in the river.

Amadi stood ankle-deep in cold rushing water, pulling in his nets and counting the silvery fish, and wondered why he fell so short of his daily catch. One of his nets refused to follow his hands no matter how hard he pulled at it and after a minute he stopped. A snag, he thought. The net must've caught on something and torn, letting fish escape. Resigned to spending the evening mending it, he followed the net across the river until he saw something caught in the rocks.

It was a dead man.

He shouted and fell over, then scrambled on the slick riverbed and stumbled over to the body. He gathered his ripped net and dragged the man to shore. Amadi stared down at him, wondering at the lacerations on his body, the bruises mottling his skin, the deep dark wound in his side. His clothes had been torn to shreds, which told Amadi the man fell into the river far north where the waters frothed and roiled around sharp stone.

Where did this man come from? How did he get here? He wasn't Jabari; what little of his clothes remained weren't Jabari-made. Amadi looked northward where the river twisted and turned beyond his eyes up through Jabariland into Wakanda. This man was Wakandan, once. 

Who was he? Amadi turned his cold arms over and observed the bruises and scrapes. This man fought hard to live. What a shame he did not. What a shame that he was found far from his home. He may be Wakandan but he should be buried in the land of his ancestors. Amadi's hand slid down clammy damp skin while he wondered how to lift dead weight into his cart and something fluttered under his fingers.

A pulse.

The dead man wasn't dead, but he will be without the healers to help. Amadi hurried to his cart to grab his spare cloak and threw it over the Wakandan. He looked up at the sky; late afternoon meant he still had time to return to the river and haul in the rest of his catch. Carefully—he wasn't young anymore as his friends liked to remind him—he lifted the Wakandan into the back of his wagon and hitched his buffalo.

Ekene, a young warrior who patrolled this particular road, stood watch at the head of the path to the riverbank. He and Amadi knew each other well, so when he saw Amadi returning from the river earlier than usual, he called out, "Hanuman did not grant you luck this day, aburo?"

Amadi waved to him. "No, he brought me something else. Come quick."

Frowning, Ekene walked around Amadi's buffalo to the back of the wagon, his knobkerrie held tightly in both hands. Amadi pushed aside his empty baskets and lifted the spare cloak.

"I found this man in the river—are you well? Ekene?"

Ekene had staggered back as if clubbed by some unseen foe. He quickly spun on the balls of his feet, wide eyes searching the mountainside, knobkerrie held before him. "The river? You found him in the river?"

"Yes, I did. You know this man? You know who he is?"

The warrior slammed his knobkerrie on the ground three times and hollered at the top of his lungs. In short order, other warriors appeared on the road, knobkerries and spears in hand. Amadi stepped back and watched, stupefied, as Ekene beckoned them to his wagon to show what he had found in his nets. Hushed whispers exploded and one turned away to relay a message through her bracer. Amadi didn't hear what the recipient said but the warriors all started whispering again.

"Revered aburo," Ekene said while the other warriors positioned themselves at his buffalo's head and around the wagon. "Forgive us but we must take this man to the Great Gorilla. I promise you that your beast and wagon will be returned tomorrow morning. You will be compensated for what you lost today."

"The Great Gorilla? Does he know this man?" the fisherman asked, increasingly bewildered by the escalation situation. "Ekene, what is happening?"

The young man simply shook his head and followed the others up the long road to their great mountain stronghold.

* * *

* * *

Cold. He is cold. He is sinking into the deep dark cold. Light shimmers above him. If he can just reach….

_It is time for you to come home._

* * *

* * *

M'Baku, the Great Gorilla of the Jabari, was trying his best to listen to N'Gamo's report on the cost of repairing the damages left behind by the recent spate of floodings. It had become a seasonal occurrence in the last twenty years, but last year was the first time in M'Baku's memory that the number of flooded terraces and lost crops raised an alarm. Climate change, advisers told him, was the problem. The world was changing at a frustrating pace and they must act decisively to secure the people's future.

He still had to fight a yawn as N'Gamo continued to drone on about the details of their findings.

"Then do it," M'Baku said after N'Gamo finished. He looked at the three men and women with an arched eyebrow. "Why do you need my explicit permission to begin the repairs? Did you think I would question it?"

"Work has already begun," N'Gamo replied patiently and with some amusement after the advisers left the room. "But losing four entire fields of yam does not bode well for the next year."

"It concerns me as well," M'Baku said, frowning deeply. Enough was stored in the vaults deep in the mountains to last the tribe for at least five years, but opening them was a bad omen. He was not going to risk anything yet. "You said there was one other thing?"

"Yes, a report of an outsider's aircraft landing at the Wakandan border-"

Whispers exploded behind the doors to the throne room. M'Baku and N'Gamo shared a look and his closest adviser immediately left to see what was causing the furor. M'Baku sat back in his seat but straightened not even half a minute later when N'Gamo hurried back into the room, a deep furrow between his brow and his mouth a troubled line.

"What is it, N'Gamo?" M'Baku asked, rising to his feet and picking up the knobkerrie leaning against the throne's armrest.

"You should come see for yourself."

M'Baku followed N'Gamo and several of his guardsmen outside into the snow. Evening was rapidly turning into night and their breaths frosted in the air as they hurried over to a patrol standing around a buffalo and wagon. 

M'Baku raised an eyebrow at N'Gamo. "What is this?"

N'Gamo waved to one of the warriors. The young man stepped forward and saluted M'Baku. "Great Gorilla. I am Ekene, son of Udo. Today I was stationed along the riverbank to watch over our fishermen. One of them discovered a man caught in his nets."

"A dead man?" M'Baku asked slowly. The river flowed south, meaning the corpse was very likely a Wakandan. A complication, but a minor one and they long had protocols for such unfortunate discoveries. "Surely you know how to handle such matters without my interference. Why am I needed?"

Ekene gestured to the wagon. "Because he is not just any man."

M'Baku followed N'Gamo and Ekene to the back of it. There was a body covered in a roughly woven cloak. He frowned at the men and women watching the body warily, as if a snake was hiding underneath waiting to strike, and slowly lifted the cloth.

He stared down at T'Challa, king of Wakanda, Damisa-Sarki.

The last time M'Baku saw the young king, he had his back to the Jabari to greet the members of the other four tribes that had come to his coronation. M'Baku and his men slunk away, pride bruised and, in M'Baku's case, bleeding. Before leaving Warrior Falls, he looked back one last time at the victorious panther. That man was alive, standing tall and proud before his people.

That man was now cold and still under the fisherman's cloak. Frost was forming on his short curly hair and beard. M'Baku lifted his hand, hesitated, and then pressed it against the dead king's neck. He could, if he wanted to, open his hand wide and crush the man's windpipe. But what was the point? T'Challa was dead.

Something fluttered weakly under his fingers, responding to much-needed warmth, and M'Baku withdrew his hand quickly.

"Is he dead?" N'Gamo asked.

M'Baku threw back the cloak and beheld the extent of the king's injuries. Even in moonlight, he could see the mottling, the bruises sluggishly bleeding under dark skin. They must've been made by the fierce cold river that battered him as it carried him deep into Jabariland. But here was a laceration, here was a cut, a gouge, bruises not made by blunt stone. Here was a deep stabbing wound that would have hobbled any man not imbued with the powers of the heart-shaped herb.

So, someone must've come forth to challenge King T'Challa for the throne. The challenger could not have been one of the other four tribes so who else of royal blood issued it? Who was strong enough and fast enough and skillful enough to defeat the young warrior king and throw him down Warrior Falls?

"No," M'Baku finally said, "but he will be. Summon N'Didi."

"You mean to save him?" N'Gamo asked. "The king of Wakanda?"

M'Baku was once caught in the panther's grasp, pinned down and choking in his embrace. Warrior Falls thundered in his ears and the other tribes chanted T'Challa's name but when the young king spoke, M'Baku heard his words as clearly as if they were spoken to him on a quiet snowy night.

_"Yield! Your people need you!"_

Better to bruise his pride than to die and leave the Jabari seat to his cousin. He would depart Warrior Falls alive and indebted to the king, knowing the debt would never be repaid. What were the odds of him repaying that life debt anyway?

"I owe him a great debt," he said quietly, turning away from the wagon while N'Didi and the other healers hurried out into the snow to tend to the fallen king. "I would see it be repaid."

N'Gamo watched one of the healers scan the panther king's body and frown deeply at the readings. "There is a chance he will never wake. And if he does, he is Wakandan and owes us nothing. Do not expect anything to change."

"Hanuman condemn me if I do not try," M'Baku said and turned away. "So we must."

* * *

* * *

It is so cold. He neither sinks nor rises. He is suspended in the dark, watching without seeing the glimmering light above him dim. The sun is going down.

_It is time for you to come home._

* * *

* * *

M'Baku did not look behind him when someone entered his chambers. He did not rise from his seat at the edge of the observation deck where he sat meditating on the day's sudden and foreboding turn of events.

"Cousin," Ce'Athauna said reproachfully. "You'd waste our precious resources and time on a near-dead king? On Damisa-Sarki, who humiliated you before all?"

"He spared my life that day," M'Baku replied. "Who would I be if I did not attempt the same?"

"I spoke with N'Didi. The king… he is in a coma. He suffered worse than broken bones and she won't risk surgery. She says his heart will give out when it is already struggling. Without a miracle, he will never wake and what reason would Hanuman have to grant one to a child of Bast?"

He already knew the healers' efforts would be for naught. They could keep the panther king in a bed of snow, slowing his sluggish heart and the internal bleeding. But, N'Didi warned, there was nothing they could do. The trauma dealt to the former king was too great. All they could hope for was a painless passing. 

And, N'Didi added, she felt a turmoil within the panther king, one deeper than any of his numerous injuries.

"A broken spirit cannot heal," she had told M'Baku while they looked down at the panther half-buried in snow. "A terrible way to die. He may not be Jabari but I pity him all the same."

Would it not be a kindness to let T'Challa slip away, to pass from this world with whatever peace can be granted to him? Imagine, a thought in his head mused, being the one now to decide whether or not the panther king dies.

"He is dying but not yet dead," M'Baku told Ce'Athauna. "I must know who was capable of defeating him when I could not. Find out who this usurper is, where they came from, how they intend to rule Wakanda. Tell me what happened to the royal family. We must return the body to them when the time comes."

His cousin said nothing. M'Baku did not have to ask what she thought about his orders. Asking for information on Wakanda's new king was expected, but seeking the whereabouts of the queen mother wasn't. M'Baku was not about to bury the panther king away from his home, however. The royal family deserved to bury him with his ancestors, no matter how M'Baku felt about him and all previous panther kings.

"I will do it," Ce'Athauna finally said. "Even he deserves to return home."

He breathed out slowly, glad that she understood why he was making the effort. He was Jabari and he intended to honor tradition even if it meant risking the attention of the new king. 

"Make sure no one follows you," he told her before she left. "They must not know why you are there."

"Don't question me, cousin," Ce'Athauna replied coolly. "I know the risk you are taking. No one will know."

She left behind an unspoken question: why was she risking her life as well? Whoever deposed T'Challa did so brutally and with no mercy. It warned M'Baku to be vigilant, to pay attention to his new neighboring ruler. What was the new king capable of? Who could wound a man in both body and soul? What kind of threat will they pose to the Jabari? 

M'Baku mulled over the questions long into the night while watching the pinpricks of golden light down below in the river valley. He went to bed with trepidation sinking in his chest like a stone and his dreams were filled with the thunder of rushing water and a spear piercing his side while T'Challa begged him to surrender.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Not everyone was told that the former king of Wakanda slept in the snow on the mountainside. M'Baku decided not to speak of it, concerned that if word spread the wrong people would hear and Wakanda would come knocking down the mountains. 

"They will not appreciate being kept in the dark, Great Gorilla," N'Gamo informed him while they ate their morning meal. "His very presence here is a threat."

"He is a dying man, he cannot hurt us," M'Baku replied around a mouthful of akara. 

N'Gamo rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

He did. Wakanda's new king would not appreciate the Jabari harboring the former one, even if T'Challa was hours away from joining his ancestors in the Djalia. Violence could come to Jabariland simply because one man owed another his life.

"Would you rather we throw him back into the river? Let him wash ashore somewhere in the DRC?" No matter what people believed about the Jabari, they were just as aware of the outside world and all the attention a dead king's body could bring. "As I said, let N'Didi and the others try what they can. She says there is no real chance he will recover, so let him die here and not elsewhere. It is the least we can do."

"What _you_ can do," N'Gamo corrected and M'Baku did not bother to protest. "Very well. Have you thought about Yejide's suggestion for redirecting the floodwaters?"

The day crawled. If M'Baku looked at it objectively, his day was no different from the previous day, or the day before last. He had his meetings, his meals, his visits to the mountain grove and the fields of drowned yam. One could say the day was mundane, but he could not. He could not stop thinking about the Wakandan buried in snow. He could not stop thinking about what it meant to have Damisa-Sarki wash up on his shores and be brought to his doorstep by one of his fishermen.

"Are you well, Great Gorilla?" an elderly adviser asked.

It was evening and weak moonlight streamed into the throne room, illuminating the last meeting of the day. M'Baku blinked rapidly and then leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked around at the others. "I apologize, Chinwe. It has been a long day and I have had much to think on."

"Then let us end the day now and resume tomorrow," Chinwe replied and rose to his feet. The others followed suit and saluted M'Baku before leaving the throne room.

N'Gamo did not leave. He looked at M'Baku reproachfully while tapping out a command on his bracer. "You are lucky I recorded the last meeting. Listen to it before you resume tomorrow or Chinwe will thrash you with his walking stick."

"No he won't," M'Baku said. "Don't worry yourself over this. I will manage. Have you heard anything new?"

N'Gamo shook his head while following M'Baku out of the throne room. "His vitals are weak. He clings to life but N'Didi does not know for how much longer. M'Baku, what will you do when he dies? You know he must return to his home."

"A reason why I sent Ce'Athauna to Birnin Zana last night," M'Baku said while they strode to the dining hall. "It was not only to gather information on the new king."

His adviser and friend had nothing to say. They ate their evening meal in silence and parted ways with N'Gamo reminding him to listen to the recording. M'Baku did so once he was sitting cross-legged on the observation deck, gazing down at the pitch-black of the river valley, the scattered village lights, and the snowy peaks surrounding them. He listened to the debate over the construction of a new farming village on land unaffected by the floods until a headache began to form behind his left eye. 

"Enough," he muttered to himself and cut the audio. 

He didn't power down his bracer yet; his fingers hovered over the glowing hair-thin circuits in the polished gray wood while he debated contacting N'Didi. He shouldn't bother her when she had patients in her care but the panther king was a security threat and he had to know what to expect in the next several hours.

Instead he powered it down and meditated on the rising moon, letting the day's burdens and worries wash over him and downriver out of Jabariland. An hour passed and then someone knocked on the door.

"Enter," he said without looking over his shoulders or opening his eyes. He knew the footsteps treading across the floor. "What is it? Another dead king at my doorstep?"

"You must come now, M'Baku," N'Gamo said, skipping titles and getting M'Baku's attention immediately. "I have never—in all my years, I have never—you must see for yourself."

M'Baku pulled on his thick fur cowl and grabbed his knobkerrie before following his friend down halls and across bridges. He knew where N'Gamo was going and wondered if he should have called on N'Didi after all. But if something did happen to the panther king, why didn't she call him first? Why send N'Gamo?

Guardsmen and healers stood clustered around the doorway to the private courtyard, whispering furiously and anxiously amongst themselves while peering outside. A terse bark alerted them to M'Baku's presence and they immediately pressed themselves against the walls and saluted him. N'Didi did not step back; the old woman bowed and then gestured out at the mountainside.

"Look," she said in a hushed, reverent tone. "Look who has come to pay their respects to Damisa-Sarki."

M'Baku peered outside. Great white shapes moved around the body of the Wakandan like ghosts, spectral ancestors come to usher the king home. They were not ghosts, however, but great white gorillas, Hanuman's own, and they had come to see the man who once wore Bast's mantle.

"What does this mean?" someone wondered.

It was a question no one could answer, not yet. M'Baku watched the white gorillas keep their own vigil over the dying king, wondering why Hanuman sent them here. What was his reason? Why was he so interested in T'Challa? 

"They are merely curious," N'Gamo decided. "That is not unusual behavior-"

"This is no show of curiosity," N'Didi replied. "Hanuman knows what happened that brought the panther king here. He asks us to pay attention."

"The affairs of Wakanda are not the affairs of the Jabari," N'Gamo said. "It was only happenstance that he was caught in a fisherman's nets."

"And yet they are here, watching over Bast's chosen." N'Didi looked at M'Baku. "Great Gorilla, I do not pretend to understand the ways of Hanuman or of kings, but you cannot ignore the signs. _You_ have broken enough traditions. Perhaps you are meant to break more."

"I am aware," he replied, barely keeping a scowl off his face. 

His desire to engage directly with the Wakandan king did not sit well with his advisers but he had believed it was the right thing to do. Perhaps Hanuman felt the same way.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his gaze back to the white gorillas. "They are leaving."

The great white shapes trundled away slowly in the deep snow. Everyone watched silently, breaths barely louder than whispers, until the last gorilla disappeared into the deep night. N'Didi gestured to the other healers to see if the gorillas disturbed the king's body. M'Baku watched for a moment longer and then turned away.

"Great Gorilla!"

"How is it that he cannot leave me alone even when he's dying?" he muttered to N'Gamo while stepping out into the cold.

N'Gamo laughed lowly while they approached the healers. They fussed over T'Challa while N'Didi watched. She turned when they approached and M'Baku noticed something clutched in her wiry hands. A faint light seemed to seep between her fingers.

"This was left behind," she said and revealed a plant in her calloused palms. "It was found near the king's head."

The plant looked like nothing M'Baku ever saw in his life, and he had traversed the length and breadth of Jabariland since he was a child. He _had_ seen old detailed drawings of the heart-shaped herb that grew in the Necropolis gardens and gave the Black Panthers their power, but this was not the plant. It was hard to see in the moonlight but the leaves along the stem were very dark while the bell-shaped leaves at the tip were pale. The delicate petals nestled inside glimmered green.

"What is it?" he asked.

"A gift," N'Didi replied while N'Gamo said, "Whatever the white gorillas eat."

The revered white gorillas of Hanuman were a different breed, larger and stronger and with great intelligence in their gaze. They were gentle giants that tolerated the Jabari in their forests. As the eyes and ears of Hanuman, they did not behave like other gorillas and that would obviously extend to what they ate, but no one knew exactly what. No one had ever seen a white gorilla feast on such a plant. 

"Do you think it was left here on purpose?" M'Baku looked at the healers holding vigil over the panther king. "Do you believe this to be Hanuman's doing?"

N'Gamo opened his mouth and the elder healer quickly said, "He is dying. All we can do is keep him comfortable."

M'Baku stared over her head into the dark where the white gorillas vanished. Despite what N'Gamo said, they did not wander up the mountainside to the stronghold often and they certainly did not come to stand over a Wakandan buried in snow. What they witnessed was no coincidence but Hanuman's intent. Hanuman was asking them—asking _him_ to do something different.

"What have we to lose?" M'Baku slowly said. Perhaps Hanuman wanted him to repay his debt in this way. Perhaps his god needed T'Challa alive in order to show him something. There was only one way to learn. "Do what you must, N'Didi. If this is how I am to repay my debt, then so be it." He turned away. "Tell me if anything changes—for better or worse."

* * *

* * *

_It is time for you to come home._

It is not so cold now. He can barely see the light. It is far beyond his reach and he is at peace with it. He is at peace with whatever awaits him in the dark.

He is ready to go home.

_Where are you going?_

That is not his baba's voice. It is deep and soundless, reverberating all around him.

_Where are you going, little one?_

He is going home. Laughter ripples through him. The light glints and glistens above him, entrancing, like sunlight dancing on clear waters.

_You are not going home. It is not your time._

It is. He had done what he could, he had paid his father's price, he had-

_Who are you, hm? Are you your baba? Or are you yourself?_

What does it matter?

_Little one. Foolish one. It is not your time._

The light is spreading. It gleams, golden and entrancing. He is starting to feel cold again, and he does not like it. Does not accept it.

_Good. Return to where you belong, little one. I cannot mind my own until you do._

He tears his eyes away from the light once, just once, to see a great white shape lurking in the dark below him. It reaches out and shoves him up at the

* * *

He jolts upright with a gasp and a burst of warm air in his lungs, and then crumples over in pain. Every breath stabs him and everywhere throbs deep in his bones; how can being in his own skin hurt so much?

Cool hands pull and push at him, gentle yet firm, and a low voice speaks in an accent he can't place. "Breathe slowly. Ease yourself into it. Your body is still mending. Do not rush it."

He lets himself be lowered back down onto a smooth hard surface covered in thick cloth. Slow breaths ease the pain in his sides but he still feels the strain of lungs pressing against cracked ribs. They are—were—broken and healing slowly. He blinks, trying to focus his eyes, but can't make out more than a dim gray ceiling. He does not recognize it.

"Where am I?" he asks but all that comes out of his dry mouth is a hiss.

More hands slide under his head and tilt it up. Something presses to his lips. Lukewarm water laps against his tongue and he leans forward eagerly to drink.

"Slowly," the low voice snaps. "Do not make me repeat myself."

He does as told, letting water wash over his tongue and trickle down his throat. Every swallow is painful but he does not stop until the water is taken away.

"Now rest. You are still healing."

He lays his head back on a cushion and closes his eyes. He hears footsteps padding across a hard floor and the sounds echo. There is a murmuring somewhere, water pouring into a pool, that explains the dampness in the air.

"Where am I?" he asks again and this time what passes through his cracked lips are words.

The answer does not surprise him, somehow. "Do not concern yourself with it."

He mulls over the cadence in her words, turning it over and over in his foggy mind because he knows he heard it before. A recent encounter, he thinks, and then some of that fog rolls back. He has a name for the woman's origin. "You are Jabari."

She sighs. "As I said, do not concern yourself with where you are or who I am. Focus on yourself. _Rest_."

He needs to know how he came to be in Jabariland, who she is, how long it has been since… but exhaustion throbs in his aching bones and he stops fighting to stay awake. As he sinks into sleep, he hears the woman whisper, "Tell him Damisa…."

The last thing he remembers is deep soundless laughter.

* * *

T'Challa wakes slowly. He hears rippling water echoing off the walls. He hears his own shallow breaths. He feels a deep ache in his side that stings whenever he inhales too deeply. His bones throb. He feels the scratches and bruises mottling his knuckles when he curls his fingers over cloth-covered stone.

He hears swift footsteps padding across the room and a flurry of whispers he can't quite catch. The footsteps leave, fading in seconds, and he is alone. T'Challa opens his eyes.

He is underground. The walls were chiseled from stone and water beads in the grooves and cracks. Shallow shelves hold globes of bluish light, illuminating the chamber. Water flows into a small pool on the other side of the chamber, just large enough to fit a man. Half-empty vessels sit on the ledge, bowls and pitchers shaped by hand from clay, and his mouth is suddenly dry with thirst. He slowly eases himself up onto his elbows and every inch of it is a struggle. He gasps, eyes watering from the pain, and he grits his teeth as he sits up.

He looks down at his bare arms, eying the scratches and raised lines scoring his skin. His hands look worse. He feels worse. 

He shouldn't feel at all. He should be dead. Erik—Killmonger— _N'Jadaka_ threw him over the falls and-

T'Challa lifts the thick blanket covering him to find a gauze over the deep gouge in his side and fading bruises all over his chest and abdomen. Someone had dressed him in loose dull-colored trousers that Shuri would laugh at the same way she mocked his—he presses his chapped lips tightly, stifling a sudden choking sob. What happened to her? What happened to his mother? To Nakia? What happened to Okoye, Ayo, his council, his people?

He needs to go. He must return to Wakanda. He pulls himself to the edge of the stone slab he's sitting on and then he's nauseous, lightheaded, disoriented. His stomach churns. He leans over the side and dry heaves.

T'Challa looks up when he hears footsteps again. He wipes his mouth and sits up to face his savior. He will ask the Jabari woman for her name, for the day, where he is, how she found him, what is the quickest way back to Wakanda, and he will do so sitting up and giving her his full and undivided attention.

There are two silhouettes in the chiseled doorway. The first is an elderly woman clothed in furs and plain brown robes; the only adornment on her is a large polished bangle on her wrist, carved from gray wood. She scowls at the sight of him and immediately goes to the pool to draw water. The second silhouette is taller, broad-shouldered, and made imposing by a collar of fur.

Then he steps into the light and T'Challa's heart stutters to a stop. He doesn't have to ask the Jabari woman anything after all.

"Nothing to say?" M'Baku asks after a few thunderously silent seconds. "No show of gratitude, no thanks to Hanuman and N'Didi for saving your life?"

"I…." He looks between the Great Gorilla and the elderly woman placing a vessel on a small brazier. "Thank you. But... I should be dead."

"You should be, and yet here you are in the land of the Jabari," M'Baku says. "The first Damisa-Sarki to grace it with his presence in centuries."

Few people use the old name for the Black Panther nowadays and T'Challa shivers involuntarily when he hears it. "It was not intentional, I assure you," he says. He touches the gauze on his side and grimaces. "How did you… what happened? How did I get here?"

"A fisherman found you in his nets, scaring away his catch with your face," the young Jabari leader says. He starts pacing back and forth, eying T'Challa with mild amusement. "You were brought here and she healed your many, _many_ wounds."

"Not completely," the elderly woman says. "There is not enough of the herb to see him through. The rest of his recovery must be done at a natural pace."

She is pouring a green liquid into the vessel. T'Challa leans forward, wondering. It is an unnatural color and despite the glow of the luminescent globes on the shelves, he swears it glimmers with its own light. "What sort of herb do you grow that resurrects a dead man, umakhulu?"

"Not dead. You were in a coma," she replies, arching a thin white eyebrow at him. "And this did not come from our gardens or from the forests in the valley. Hanuman-"

"N'Didi," M'Baku warns.

She waves him off while lighting the brazier. T'Challa glances around for a vent but though he feels a slight breeze in the chamber, he sees none. 

"It was Hanuman's gift to you, Damisa-Sarki," she says while stirring the vessel's contents.

T'Challa considers the answer. He needs a better one because it sounds preposterous—what interest would Hanuman have in him?—and even M'Baku appears to agree. He is not about to argue with the woman who saved his life, however. "Then I thank Hanuman for granting me new life and you for treating me well."

"Smart boy," she mutters while watching the vessel for steam. "Smarter still if you stay where you are for the next several days."

He frowns. "I cannot. I must go-"

"Back to Wakanda, I assume. In your state?" M'Baku sits back on his heels, arms folded. "Why are you in such a hurry, panther king?"

M'Baku knows the rules of the challenge. He must suspect how T'Challa came to be in the river. He must suspect the meaning behind T'Challa not rapidly recovering from his wounds on his own, without help. Yet the Jabari leader stands before him, pressing him to speak, to reveal how he fell.

"You must know," T'Challa says slowly.

"I have a few ideas," M'Baku agrees, "but better to hear from you. You were there, after all. You would know the truth."

No. He does not know M'Baku well enough to entrust him with it. He has no power here and M'Baku can force an answer out of him, but he will say nothing. He cannot tell a stranger, a _Jabari_ , about his father's crime. He cannot say why N'Jadaka came to Wakanda, or why he won the challenge when M'Baku did not.

"I fell in ritual combat for the throne," T'Challa chooses to say because it is a truth. "My challenger chose to dispose of me. Bast-" He sees N'Didi glower at him. "-or Hanuman only knows why I did not die when I should have."

M'Baku frowns deeply but remains silent, and he is grateful. His answer may be truthful but it is also clinical and gives away none of the doubts and sorrow that plagued him, blinded him, and nearly killed him. He himself is not ready to face them yet.

"Your sister and the queen mother," M'Baku says instead. "They are the reason why you wish to go back."

"Yes," T'Challa says more harshly than he means to. "I must know what became of them. I must know if they are…."

If they are dead. It is a possibility he cannot bear to comprehend. He lost his father just weeks ago and Zuri's death is still fresh, still raw. If N'Jadaka turned on Shuri and his mother, then Nakia would have tried to protect them but he cannot see her winning that fight. A vengeful man is a dangerous one, after all. And if N'Jadaka fell on them with the powers of the Black Panther, then T'Challa is the only one left.

"I have men searching for information," M'Baku says when T'Challa remains silent. He then adds, speaking each word delicately, "If I hear anything about your family, you will be informed immediately."

He is embarrassed that he did not expect such kindness from the Jabari leader. He smiles tiredly, gratefully at M'Baku. "Thank you."

N'Didi steps forward, holding a dripping wooden ladle. "He must rest, Great Gorilla. It is nearly dawn and you have your duties."

"I am aware." M'Baku holds his gaze for a few seconds more and then turns away. "Do not speak of this until I say so."

"Of course," she says.

Once he is gone, T'Challa lets his shoulders slump. He frowns at M'Baku's last words to her. "Does nobody else know I am here, umakhulu?"

"You are the former king. Do you believe your usurper will leave you alone if they know you are here? Better to hide you until you are ready to leave."

"And when will that be?" he asks. He watches the old woman return to the brazier to ladle a steaming liquid into a small stone bowl.

Her smile is tight, guarded, and his stomach sinks.

"Hanuman knows."

* * *

* * *

* * *

"He is hiding something," N'Gamo mused.

"Of course he is. I wouldn't expect anything less," M'Baku replied. They were alone in the throne room after the morning meeting and could talk freely about their unexpected guest for a few minutes. "He has no reason to share his secrets with me."

"My concern, Great Gorilla, is that his secrets will follow him here," N'Gamo said. "What if he knows something about the new king that could topple them? Do you think they will remain on their golden throne in the golden city and allow him to share that secret with us?"

M'Baku dragged a hand down his face. This dilemma plagued him all throughout the meeting, earning him no favor with Chinwe or the other advisers.

"I had hoped for a more complete answer," Chinwe had said at the end of the meeting, "given the restless night you must've had pondering _something_."

"Forgive my impudence, Chinwe," M'Baku replied while biting back a yawn. Curse the panther king; he had only been awake for four hours and was already causing trouble. "I will have a better answer for you tomorrow."

"If he refuses to speak," N'Gamo was saying, "then tell him he is a danger and a threat to the Jabari. Tell him you will force him out even if he is not yet whole."

M'Baku dropped his hand in his lap to level N'Gamo with a look. "Too far, N'Gamo."

"I speak only the truth," his adviser replied coolly. "Are we not the priority?"

M'Baku lived for his people and he would die for them if the situation called for it. However, he could not forget the moment he laid eyes on the panther king last night. T'Challa held himself proudly but his face was gaunt, sallow, exhausted. There was a small puddle of bile on the ground next to the stone bed and nothing the panther king did could contain his pain and grief. It was so plain in his eyes that M'Baku could not speak for several seconds.

_"A broken spirit cannot heal."_

M'Baku knew terrible things must've happened in the days leading up to the panther king's fall. What did Wakanda get itself into since the Jabari withdrew to their mountains? Did it have anything to do with vibranium-based technology, T'Challa's continuation of his father's efforts to globalize, fallout from King T'Chaka's death, or-

"N'Gamo," he said slowly, "that report you tried to give me on an outsider's aircraft at the Wakandan border. Tell me what became of it."

N'Gamo thought for a moment. "Members of the Border Tribe apprehended its pilot and brought him into Wakanda."

M'Baku raised an eyebrow at that. The Border Tribe took their duties far more seriously than the panther king did; what in Hanuman's name would convince them to allow an outsider in? He remembered an incident years and years ago that left thick black smoke streaming into the sky. He had wondered about it while he and his baba watched from the safety of the mountains; he learned later that an outsider breached Wakanda's defenses to steal cases of vibranium. It hadn't happened again—until now.

"When did this happen?" he asked.

"Two days ago. It arrived in the afternoon."

M'Baku nodded slowly while slotting it into its place in his internal timeline. "That fisherman found Damisa-Sarki in his nets that evening. A strange coincidence."

N'Gamo frowned. "You think they are related events?"

"The Border Tribe gave an outsider passage into Wakanda when they _never_ allow anyone in. Now we harbor Damisa-Sarki within our walls. Perhaps his challenger was that pilot."

"The challenger must be of royal blood," N'Gamo pointed out. "While the Hatut Zeraze counts them among their ranks, what war dog returns home to challenge the king so soon after his coronation?"

Questions upon questions. They roiled in M'Baku's mind and something ached behind his left eye. This story had too many holes and Ce'Athauna had just left on her mission. It would be days before she had a story to tell him.

"I do not know, but he will," M'Baku said. "Perhaps I will ask him tonight, if N'Didi lets me."

He rose to his feet and then N'Gamo asked, "How long will he be here, M'Baku?"

"So quick to withdraw your hospitality, hm? What would Hanuman think?" He chuckled at N'Gamo's exasperated huff. "N'Didi claims he cannot leave until he is well and you know how she is about the people in her care."

"I know quite well." N'Gamo followed him out of the throne room. "But what does it matter? Do not deny the risk we are taking right now, the risk _you_ are taking."

He thought about his advisers' disapproval of his distracted responses to their questions and suggestions, and about the mysterious new king that thought T'Challa's death would best establish their claim to the throne. Damisa-Sarki was trouble, something N'Gamo believed more strongly than M'Baku did, and yet M'Baku hesitated. 

"I said I owe him a debt. He is awake now but still weak." He could still clearly see the panther king's haunted eyes in his mind. "Once he recovers fully, he will leave and you can sleep easier at night."

"I sleep as well as ever, Hanuman willing," N'Gamo replied. "It is you I worry about."

"Do not concern yourself with me," M'Baku said. His very early start to the day only occurred because the panther king woke from his coma. There was no reason for it to happen again. "I will make it up to Chinwe and Bosede."

"That is not what I meant," N'Gamo said and something about his voice made M'Baku stop in his tracks and turn around. "You know what they say about Damisa-Sarki. These panthers watch, speak, act from the shadows. They are never what they say they are. They say they will do something and instead do something else. You cannot trust whatever he says."

"Do you think I am not aware? Why else would I send Ce'Athauna to Wakanda?"

N'Gamo frowned. "Who was it that wanted to challenge the king? Who was it that decided to come down from the mountains to make Wakanda listen?"

"Better than to watch from afar and say nothing," M'Baku said. "Better than to be forgotten again."

N'Gamo said nothing and he was glad for the silence. It was too early in the day with not enough sleep to argue about this again. He needed time and rest to give these questions the attention they deserve.

When N'Gamo spoke again, they were near the mountain grove. "Did he say where he will go?"

M'Baku shrugged. "He spoke of returning to Wakanda."

"A foolish man," N'Gamo declared.

He agreed. T'Challa will probably die searching for his family but M'Baku certainly wasn't going to stop him. "Perhaps."

* * *

* * *

"Tell me about yourself, umakhulu," T'Challa says while watching N'Didi fret over a pot on the brazier.

The air smells faintly of ash and earthy herbs, and he tries not to grimace. Wakanda's modern medical advancements did not replace traditional medicines and practices, and he tasted more than his fair share of them growing up. His mother always said he was worse about it than Shuri when he was the elder of the two… he shakes his head, banishing the thought before it can overwhelm him. He is not yet ready to allow it and other terrible thoughts into his head.

"What do you want to know?" N'Didi snorts while stirring the pot. "How old I am? How long I have served the family of the Great Gorilla? What my thoughts are on your kind?"

"My kind?" T'Challa asks mildly though the words sting. Do the Jabari truly not see themselves as Wakandan? He can understand one's deep connection to their tribe and homeland, but being told to his face that the Jabari do not consider themselves a part of Wakanda hurts. He then recalls his first thoughts when the Jabari announced themselves at Warrior Falls and his face warms with shame.

N'Didi clicks her tongue. "Perhaps not the best choice of words. This is my eightieth year and I have been mending bones and bodies since I was twenty-five. I know the secrets in these herbs, these stalks and leaves and bulbs and roots and flowers. I know what cleanses your blood, what eases your stomach and mind, what numbs your pain, what stops your heart. This may seem crude to you but knowledge passed down from the ancestors-"

"I did not mean to insult you, umakhulu," T'Challa interrupts. "And it is not crude. All of our medical achievements and breakthroughs came from the discoveries of our ancestors. We did not wholly banish tradition."

N'Didi considers his words with a skeptical frown. "Hmph. You certainly know how to appease your elders." She ladles a steaming black liquid into a wooden bowl and presents it to him. "Drink this. You may have recovered from your fall but you are susceptible to sickness and other troublesome complications. It will also help you rest."

"You mean it will put me to sleep," T'Challa says warily. His nose keeps twitching at the stench.

"If you wish to leave this place on your own two feet, you will drink it and you will rest," N'Didi replies. "It is what your body and mind need most."

He accepts the brew with some reluctance. It still steams and he decides to let it cool. "Another question then, umakhulu. You say the herb that saved my life was a gift from Hanuman, not from your gardens. How did you come by it if you did not grow it?"

N'Didi hesitates while clearing the area around the brazier with its simmering medicine. "What do you know about the white gorillas of Jabariland?"

He knows precious little but he does not say so. "I know they are unlike other gorillas. They are larger, stronger, faster, smarter, and they are impervious to the cold and snow. I know they are sacred to you, that you see them as avatars of Hanuman."

She stares at him. "You know more than you let on, Damisa-Sarki. I am impressed."

T'Challa contemplates the dark liquid in the bowl in his hands. "Why do you call me that?"

"Is that not your name?" she asks. "Or have Wakandans forgotten it?"

"Not forgotten, just no longer used. The shamans still say it in rituals but it is a formality." He takes a tentative sip and his tongue curls at the overpowering bitter taste. "What do the white gorillas have to do with the herb?"

She doesn't answer immediately. Her lips are pressed tightly while she pours the rest of the medicine into a pot and covers it. He wonders if a Jabari secret is involved in his recovery.

"I do not know for certain." She speaks as though the admission hurts her. "While we encounter white gorillas in the mountains, they rarely come to this stronghold. Last night, they appeared at the courtyard and held vigil over you. They left after a half-hour. One of them dropped a plant near your head. It was… extraordinary, nothing we've seen before. The mountains still hold many secrets but this herb… the petals glowed."

Like the heart-shaped herb. His heart beats loudly at the implication. If such an herb grew in Jabariland and imparted similar enhancements, it could alter Wakanda and the Jabari’s uneasy coexistence. If it fell into the wrong hands, if the wrong man or woman took up M'Baku's mantle, then tensions could escalate into violence. Wakanda could collapse in on itself.

What were the odds that the Jabari discovered this plant a day after pulling him out of the river?

N'Didi sees his face and shakes her head vigorously. "It is not your Bast-gifted herb, Damisa-Sarki, panther king. It may have knitted your organs, arteries, veins, and bones back together, but it did not enhance your natural abilities. It did not encourage your body to heal itself."

He touches his side immediately, hand brushing lightly over the gauze covering the deep gouge where N'Jadaka stabbed him. It still cripples him with debilitating pain if he aggravates it, but it has already scabbed over. Many of his grievous injuries are mending just two days after his cousin and the river inflicted them on him.

"It is still an unusual and powerful plant," he says. "You should seek it out."

"I will not," she replies and he flinches at the steel in her voice. "It is a gift from Hanuman, given to us when it was most needed. I will not be greedy and scour the mountainside for more."

"It can stop internal bleeding. It mended my bones. It-"

"Is not ours to use as we please," she says. "I can accept that Hanuman granted it to us to save your life and your life only. He has his reasons and I will not question them."

"And what of the others? I do not believe it will satisfy M'Baku."

She gestures dismissively at the Great Gorilla's name. "His concerns are not my concerns. I am a healer first. It only matters that you recover while in my care. After that, you may do what you wish." She glares at the bowl in his hands. "You will not return to Wakanda so quickly unless you drink that, Damisa-Sarki."

He will not challenge the word of the elder healer. He slowly drains the bowl under her watchful eyes without flinching and hands it to her. 

"You are certainly less troublesome than others," she remarks while rinsing the bowl. "This old woman is grateful for it. Now rest. You have been awake long enough and the medicine must do its work."

"I will," he says, "but I wish to be left alone."

"Very well," she says and then points to another bowl on the table. "When you wake, drink this. I will know if you didn't."

She leaves and T'Challa is alone in the chamber. He breathes deeply and then pulls himself to the edge of the stone slab. His body does not ache so terribly but his arms shake with the effort. He is breathless when he is at the edge of the slab and increasingly doubtful that his legs can bear his weight. Still, he tries. He sets his feet on the ground and then pauses to stare at the scrapes and scratches on his shins. 

When he was the Panther, shallow wounds vanished within the hour. He isn't used to seeing them remain on his skin. He isn't used to remembering how far he fell.

Something heavy and cold sinks to the bottom of his stomach. No longer interested in testing his strength, T'Challa pulls back from the ledge and lies down on the stone bed. He stares at the light globes on the wall until he can no longer keep his eyes open.

* * *

* * *

M'Baku was in a foul mood when the day was over. Bosede called a meeting at the very last second to once again discuss the new construction project, and he was not amused. He knew what the adviser was really doing but he could not call them out without drawing attention to his poor behavior the past two weeks. 

"I have the final say," he had declared at the end of the meeting. "Resources are few and I will not waste them on buildings that wash away from the next year's rains. Prove to me first that the new village can withstand the floodwaters."

He left for the dining hall under a dark cloud. He barely tasted his evening meal and heard none of the laughter and banter around him. His cousin's seat was empty and he wondered where in Wakanda Ce'Athauna was now. He wondered what she learned. He wondered if it would matter.

N'Gamo sat down across from him and dipped a ball of fufu into the half-eaten bowl of groundnut soup. "Did you not read my report, Great Gorilla-"

"Not tonight," M'Baku said curtly. "I will not ruin it any more than Bosede had."

"They only have our best interest at heart," N'Gamo replied. "They do not appreciate a leader who says nothing about the displaced villagers or our future."

"Who claims I say nothing?" M'Baku scowled at the floor. Did he not already have enough to worry about? "I need time and they will not give it."

"We will be short on the yam harvests this year," N'Gamo said mildly. " _Again_."

"Then show me what our plans are. Show me how we will protect our people and crops from the mountains." His appetite gone completely, he scrubbed his hands clean with water from a pitcher and rose to his feet. "Tell Bosede _that_."

Evening became night and he paced around his bedroom, unable to let go of the day's events. He could not sit and watch the river valley, could not meditate and let his stress slip away. If only he could summon his most outspoken adviser here and tell them the truth. But what kind of leader would buckle under the pressure of keeping a secret to protect his people?

N'Gamo was right. The panther king's presence endangered the Jabari by occupying M'Baku's mind, keeping him from paying attention to the concerns of his people. T'Challa was awake now and N'Didi promised he would recover on his own; M'Baku could cast him out and be done with it—but he could not. It did not seem right to abandon a man who lost everything even if he was Wakandan.

M'Baku's advisers were displeased when he chose to confront T'Challa on the day of the panther king's coronation. They would condemn M'Baku for harboring him after he lost his throne. They would say that Wakanda's matters were not theirs and that his obsession with Damisa-Sarki made him unfit to be the Great Gorilla. They would say so many things.

_"We are a family that refuses to eat from the same bowl but must do so in order to live,"_ his iya-nla once said while they watched the golden lights of Birnin Zana from the mountaintop. _"What happens to one will happen to the other."_

_"They do not care about us, iya-nla. Why should we care about them?"_

His grandmother cuffed him on the head. _"Wakanda protects our lands. We protect Wakanda's old ways. They have forgotten, so it is up to us to remember._ You _must remind them when the time comes, little gorilla. Remind them that we are still here and we remember."_

"We remember," he muttered. He threw on his fur cowl and left for the healing chambers.

The warriors stationed outside thumped their chests in salute when they saw him. He nodded and then loudly said, "Leave us."

He stepped inside to see the former king sitting up on his stone bed, staring at the pool of water on the other side of the chamber. His hair was unkempt, his beard desperately needed a trim, and his half-healed wounds did not make for a pretty sight, but he still managed to look dignified. Noble. How did he do it?

A tray sat next to T'Challa, the bowl of food barely touched. M'Baku could not blame his reluctance to eat gruel but if he did not eat, he would remain in Jabariland for longer than either of them wanted him to.

"You should eat that before N'Didi comes back," he said.

T'Challa started and whipped his head around to stare at M'Baku before looking down at the tray next to him. "Forgive me. I did not hear you."

"At all? I thought panthers had better hearing," M'Baku snorted incredulously. He went to one of the light globes on the wall to inspect its intensity. He felt eyes on his back and resisted the urge to scratch a sudden itch.

"I saw her pouring water in there," T'Challa said slowly. "You use bioluminescent microorganisms for light?"

"They are not harmed if that is what you ask." M'Baku turned back around. "So." He noticed Damisa-Sarki sit up straighter, chin held high despite the light tremor of exhaustion. "I heard an interesting report about an incident at your border two days ago."

There. Fear flickered in T'Challa's eyes and then the man's face emptied of emotion. He knew how to wear his mask well even without that ridiculous vibranium suit. "I did not know the Jabari were watching."

"You already forgot my little speech at your coronation? I am offended," M'Baku said glibly. "My men reported seeing members of the Border Tribe bringing an outsider into Wakanda."

"That did happen, yes," T'Challa replied. His voice was even but M'Baku heard a slight strain in his words.

"Where is the outsider now?"

"Still in Wakanda," Damisa-Sarki said. "He has not left and he never will."

"Now why is that?" M'Baku asked. He stepped closer to the stone bed. "Are you holding him prisoner because he saw too much? Or is it because he decided to challenge you for your throne and won?"

T'Challa did not answer right away. His lip trembled and so did his breaths, and M'Baku realized he was measuring them to control himself. When the former king spoke, his tone did not change but M'Baku saw and heard enough.

"That would require someone of royal blood, as you well know."

Ah. So the outsider _was_ Wakandan royalty, and T'Challa knew it. "Who was it? One of your war dogs? Someone broke rank because they did not like you? How do you train the Hatut Zeraze to disobey their king-"

" _Enough_ ," T'Challa said and M'Baku fell silent despite himself. "I do not need to explain this to you, M'Baku. Leave it be."

M'Baku frowned, deeply annoyed with himself. He did not appreciate T'Challa seizing control of this conversation. "I will not. You are no king. I have no reason to listen to you."

He did not like the way T'Challa watched him, brown eyes searching his face for answers. They were far too warm and candid for a ruler's; how did anyone expect him to reign without question if his rivals and enemies could read his emotions so easily? M'Baku kept himself from shifting from foot to foot, but it was a near thing.

"I am a threat," T'Challa suddenly said, his voice lilting with revelation. "You fear harm will come to the Jabari because you saved my life."

"I owed a great debt," M'Baku replied because it was the truth. "What sort of man would I be if I did not repay it? But-" And the quirk of a smile forming on the former king's face faded. "-you are right. While you are here, we are in danger."

To his surprise, Damisa-Sarki did not protest or deny it. He simply nodded, solemn, accepting the fact because he knew what it meant to put the people before him. "Then it is for the best that I leave."

He immediately swung his legs over the side of the stone slab and set bare feet on the floor. M'Baku raised an eyebrow at the sight of the bruises and scrapes on the man's shins and knees. He also did not miss T'Challa's hesitation as he tested his footing.

"N'Didi did not say you were well enough for travel and already you are trying to run back to Wakanda," M'Baku remarked. "How far do you think you will go?"

"As far as I must."

He watched T'Challa stand on his own for a few seconds before those battered knees gave way. M'Baku sent Hanuman an exasperated prayer while lunging forward to catch him.

"N'Gamo was right," he muttered while helping him back onto the stone bed. It was disconcerting how frail the panther king felt in his arms when a week ago he struggled in T'Challa's iron grasp. "You are a foolish man."

"How long must I endure your insults?" T'Challa asked tiredly. "What king would tolerate them?"

"You are not a king now," M'Baku replied. This time T'Challa flinched at the words. "Be less of a fool and perhaps you can reclaim your mantle."

"Perhaps." T'Challa's voice was distant and his gaze empty. His hands curled in his lap as he turned his head away to stare at the light globes. "I am done for tonight, Great Gorilla."

M'Baku returned to his chambers, thoughts scattered like birds startled into flight. T'Challa may think he gave nothing away but his face and his actions spoke volumes. Whoever the new king was, T'Challa feared him and not just because of the manner in which he fell. M'Baku could not tell if it was a deeply personal matter or if the new king was a much bigger threat to Wakanda than T'Challa was. 

A dangerous king with the power of the Black Panther was the last thing he needed to contend with. Was he not already occupied with trying to secure his people's future for the next hundred years while hiding an injured panther king in his mountains? He would ask why T'Challa allowed this man into Wakanda but those were now trivial details. What he needed to know was what the new panther king was capable of and what he would do to the Jabari if he learned who saved the deposed king.

_"I am a threat. You fear harm will come to the Jabari because you saved my life."_

"I have paid my debt," M'Baku told himself. He looked down at the river valley from the observation deck, gaze sweeping over the village lights. "Damisa-Sarki must go. Wakanda's matters are not our own."

His words rang hollow in his own ear.

* * *

* * *

* * *

_Once, long ago, a Jabari hunter was caught in a fierce storm while crossing the mountains. Starving, freezing to death, he stumbled through snow and stone searching for shelter. Then he saw a large white shape ahead of him and hid behind some rocks. A great white gorilla stood in front of two dead trees, watching the storm. How did it get here? He watched it turn around and disappear. Curious, he crept forward to discover a cave entrance between the brittle trees._

_Warm air blew out of the cave; desperate to escape the cold, he threw aside caution and went inside. He saw no gorilla but discovered the cave was a corridor into the heart of the mountains. Rather than wait near the entrance until the storm died down, the hunter followed the corridor to see where it and the white gorilla went. He had no torch but a substance coating the sides of the corridor glowed bright blue. When he touched the wall, the light clung to his fingers and lit his path as he went deeper and deeper into the mountains. Then the corridor opened up and he beheld a great underground lake filled with blind fish. The ceiling had caved in long ago and beams of cold light fell on the warm waters. The light fed life to the plants that grew here, including a dying tree on a tied island on the lake._

_As the Jabari hunter drew closer, he saw the white gorilla sleeping at the base of the tree. Next to it were piles of fruits, edible shoots, and freshly caught fish. Unable to help himself, he dashed across the tombolo and fell on the food. All the while, the white gorilla slept. Once he was finished, the hunter fell into a great sleep. When he woke, there was more food piled on broad green leaves next to him but the white gorilla was gone. The Jabari hunter stayed at the roots of the dying tree for another day, until the skies cleared and he could return home. Before he left, he cleared away the refuse, buried seeds so that more plants may grow, fashioned himself a walking stick from a dead root, and thanked the absent white gorilla for saving his life._

_As he returned home to his village, he saw a family of white gorillas perched on an outcrop across the gorge, watching him. They have been watching the Jabari ever since._

M'Baku used to ask his iya-nla if the mysterious white gorilla was actually Hanuman. She never gave him a straight answer, which flummoxed and frustrated him. He preferred the story of the warrior Mandla, who went into the forest to slay the dark leopard stalking his village and was helped in his heroic feat by a great white gorilla.

It was only when M'Baku was older and came across a white gorilla while hiking through a forest of Jabari trees that he truly understood the story. He never told anyone about his encounter with the massive, gentle creature but it marked him in such a way that his father and grandmother noticed. Gone was the brash, impulsive boy whose mouth and fists were too quick for his thoughts. Here was a young man, tempered and shaped by the land so that he knew when to be patient and when to be bold.

No white gorilla sat at the foot of the dead Jabari tree or walked along the shore of the underground lake. M'Baku still looked for signs that one had been here, just as he did every time he came to this sanctuary.

A shaman marked in white chalk and laden with polished wooden jewelry approached him. "Great Gorilla, we were told that you would come today. We prepared a fasting room-"

He had no time for ritual. "I am only here to meditate on a thought. I have not eaten. Let us begin."

The shaman snapped his mouth shut and retreated to inform the others waiting just outside the receiving room. M'Baku waited until he no longer heard their footsteps before shedding his fur cowl and bracers, and leaning his knobkerrie against the wall. He strode barefoot across cool grass and damp loam to the tombolo. The water on either side was clear as glass and he watched blind fish darting away from his vibrating footsteps.

In the centuries since the Jabari first discovered this lake, an altar was carved into the roots of the now-dead Jabari tree. A basket of dried sap sat on one side and a small brazier filled with embers sat on the other. He dropped a few amber lumps and two glowing embers into a censer with a pair of tongs, then sat down before the altar, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. 

It took a few minutes. Soon his head filled with the sap's rich scent and a voice chuckled soundlessly in his ear. M'Baku cracked an eye open and beheld a great white shape sitting within the roots of the dead tree. Between the gray wood grew strange green bell-shaped plants; within the leaves something glimmered with light. He thought about plucking out the petals to give to N'Didi but he could not move.

_Why are you here, little gorilla?_

"I have questions," M'Baku said without speaking.

_About the child of Bast, Damisa-Sarki. You think I shouldn't have helped you pay your debt._

"His presence endangers us. You know what kind of person sits on the Wakandan throne."

_Damisa-Sarki is the only one who can stop him._

"The Jabari have nothing to do with it. Wakanda has not cared about us and no king voluntarily set foot in our lands for centuries. Why bring him here? Why involve us in Wakandan matters?"

The great white shape came down slowly from its seat among the silvery brown roots. It prowled around M'Baku. When it spoke again, it was into his ear and it sounded like his iya-nla.

_You made the choice, little gorilla. You did not stay in the mountains like your baba, like your iya-nla. You came down from the mountains because you could not stand to remain silent any longer. The Jabari must be heard._

M'Baku did not protest this. His decision to challenge T'Challa was not an easy one but it had to be done. Wakanda was going down a dangerous path and the Jabari were not about to sit by and let it happen. It was the unfortunate reality of an independent tribe living within the borders of a nation.

_When Damisa-Sarki comes down from the mountains, follow him._

"We have nothing to gain from fighting his battles, from spilling our blood in his name. When it is over, he will turn his back to us. He will not care once he has his throne back."

_Are you not the Great Gorilla? Are you not the pride of your people? Be their voice. Make Damisa-Sarki listen. The Jabari will not be forgotten again._

M'Baku startled awake, jerking his head up as clean air filled his lungs. He stared at the ashes in the censer and then up at the roots of the dead Jabari tree. No plants grew between them nor did the tree ever bear the weight of a great white gorilla.

The shamans waited for him in the receiving chamber. They offered him a pitcher of water to wash his face and slake his thirst. He then fastened on his fur cowl, put his bracers back on his forearms, and took up his knobkerrie.

"Did you find the answers you needed, Great Gorilla?" a shaman asked.

"I found enough," he said curtly and left.

* * *

* * *

_His father is on the floor, bleeding from deep puncture wounds to his abdomen. His father is standing over him, donning the mantle of the Black Panther, and the vibranium claws drip blood. He is crying for his baba, begging him to wake, as the Black Panther draws back his hand and strikes._

He wakes up with a start, sweat on his brow, fingers curled, ready to claw out of his own skin. He stares blankly at the wall until he realizes the glow on the shallow shelves are globes of bluish light. Bioluminescence. M'Baku confirmed his suspicions before asking about the day N'Jadaka came home.

T'Challa curls into himself, each breath a gasping sob. He almost can't feel the stabbing in his sides, the aching in his muscles and bones. He almost can't feel how mortal he is, how vulnerable, how weak. How _lonely_ he is, hidden away in a mountain far from Birnin Zana. Where is Shuri? Where is his mother? Where is Okoye? Nakia? Are they safe? Are they well? Are they still alive?

He can't stop thinking about his dream. He knows it is guilt made manifest, shaped by the vivid details N'Jadaka spit out in the throne room. He knows it isn't his fault, that he wasn't the one who killed N'Jobu and started N'Jadaka down this path of blood and vengeance, but the guilt sits at the back of his throat like bitter poison. It _is_ poison, turning food and water to dust in his mouth, hindering his senses and judgment, making him stumble and fall under N'Jadaka's rage.

What could he have done differently? T'Challa searches and searches but he can't find an answer. He feels worse knowing he never would've known if not for that fateful encounter in Busan, if not for his suspicions leading him to a horrible truth Zuri kept hidden for over twenty years. The revelation that he is only the latest in a long line of kings that closed the door on people from Erik "Killmonger" Stevens' world, a world that cast aside and trampled on the disenfranchised and the lost, is unbearable. 

_I was wrong._ He wishes Nakia was here. He needs to tell her he understands her now. _We were all wrong. I should have listened to you._

It would not have stopped N'Jadaka from coming home but it would have been a start. At the very least, he would have been at peace with himself when he faced his cousin in the Citadel. Now N'Jadaka sits on the throne, turning his vengeful eyes outward, while he hides in Jabariland, too weak to leave the mountains and at the mercy of the unpredictable M'Baku. 

The only thing T'Challa can do right now is regain his strength and hope to challenge N'Jadaka for the throne, and he won't do it lying on this stone slab all day and night. He rubs his face clean of dried tears and pulls himself to the edge. His knees shake as he shifts his weight onto them but this time they don't give out. It only takes a few steps to reach a stool next to the stone table in the chamber but he is breathing harshly and trembling by the time he sits down on it. His body aches and it feels like someone is stabbing his side with a red-hot branding iron. 

He is not ready. It may be weeks before he is, weeks he cannot afford to lose. He bows his head and tries not to cry again. 

He looks up when someone enters the chamber. N'Didi is carrying a tray of food. She stops in her tracks to stare at him and then frowns deeply while setting the tray on the table.

"And what good did that do, Damisa-Sarki?" she asks while marching over and inspecting his injuries. She probes his side and he flinches from her touch. "If you believe you only need another day, you are sorely mistaken. Hanuman's gift is not like Bast's heart-shaped herb. You should meditate on the reason why."

"I do not have time, umakhulu," he says tiredly. 

"You panthers, always in a hurry," N'Didi says while setting a bowl and a cup of a bitter brown brew before him. "Perhaps Hanuman means for you to use this time to reflect on who and what you are."

"While Wakanda is… I cannot trust that my usurper will rule with her best interest in mind."

"I cannot comment on that. I am but an old woman tasked with keeping my patients alive," N'Didi remarks. "But I can offer this."

She sets something else from the tray in front of him. It is an old book with a cover made of polished wood. He stares at it and then at her. 

"What is this?"

"A history of our relationship with the white gorillas of Hanuman," she says. "You need a way to pass the time while your body heals. What better than an opportunity to learn more about your forgotten tribe?"

"Forgot—you are not forgotten," he protests. At her hard stare, he amends with, "Overlooked, perhaps. And you are right. I should learn more about the Jabari while I am here."

"That is what I thought," she replies. "If you wish to test your strength, you may walk around this chamber."

"I need permission?"

N'Didi is unamused. "You may _not_ leave it. I say this to protect your dignity, Damisa-Sarki, as I will not be the one picking you off the ground."

T'Challa sighs inwardly, remembering last night's incident with M'Baku. He does not want to repeat the experience. "I will accept that."

He will accept many things until he can leave the mountains and return to Wakanda.

* * *

Whatever N'Didi simmered in that bitter cup puts T'Challa into a dreamless sleep, which he suspects is intentional. When he wakes, he knows more time has passed than he likes. It doesn't hurt so much when breathing and his body only protests weakly when he sits up. His hand immediately goes to his side and tentatively touches the gauze; the wound still stings but less so. He drags a hand down his face and frowns at the length of his beard. He could use a trim but he doubts anyone would let him near a razor or even a sharp blade.

He hears a slight shifting of weight, an impatient huff, and sighs. "How long have you been watching?"

"Not very long," M'Baku admits while stepping through the doorway. He wears a deep frown but it softens as he stops in the middle of the chamber. "You look less dead today."

"Again with the insults," T'Challa mutters. "I assume it's night?"

"Perhaps."

It is night. He considers the passage of time. Three days must have passed since N'Jadaka came to Wakanda. What has he done since? How is he consolidating his power? Is he amassing all of Wakanda's vibranium weapons already? Is he convincing the rest of the Council to go along with his plans? T'Challa hates not knowing what is happening to his people. He glances at his scarred hands, wishing he had his kimoyo beads.

"Have you heard anything?" he asks. Why else is M'Baku here?

The Great Gorilla shakes his head and T'Challa's heart sinks. "I have heard nothing. Your family remains missing."

He hopes they are simply in hiding. He cannot bear to think of the alternative. "And Wakanda? Any news from the Golden City?"

"No." M'Baku's eyes narrow. "What are you looking for? What do you want to know?"

If Wakanda is burning. If Shuri and his mother are still alive. If Nakia is well. If Okoye still leads the Dora. If W'Kabi feels any shame. If his father ever regretted leaving N'Jadaka behind.

"I have upset you," M'Baku says.

T'Challa wipes his wet eyes and tries to regain his composure. He forces his clenched hands to relax. "You have done nothing wrong."

He starts at the sharp bark of laughter. M'Baku looks at him incredulously and his smile is all teeth. "What happened to you, panther king? Who was it that broke your body and spirit? Tell me so that I can congratulate them for doing what I couldn't."

Anger sparks bright and hot in T'Challa's chest, burns at the back of his throat and in his eyes. How dare he? "Do not mock me, M'Baku. You do not know what you speak of-"

"Then tell me plainly, _T'Challa_ ," M'Baku retorts. "Last I saw you, you were a proud and prideful panther, confident in your ways. Now look at you, hiding in my home, so full of self-pity it makes me sick. What brought you down so low, hm? _Tell me._ "

Something happened today that agitated M'Baku. Why else is the man goading him on instead of simply asking? He leans forward, frowning, searching M'Baku's face. "What happened today?"

M'Baku raises an incredulous eyebrow. "Do not think you can turn this on me. My matters are my own."

"So are mine-"

"No. You are here because Hanuman brought you here. Why, I still don't know. But your presence here does not just inconvenience us. You are putting us in danger. Tell me who threw you from Warrior Falls. Tell me who I am to face if Wakanda comes to my mountains. _Tell me who the new Panther is._ You owe me that."

He does. He owes M'Baku an explanation, because he understands M'Baku's predicament completely. It's irresponsible and unfair to not warn the Jabari about N'Jadaka, who is a threat to all.

"His name is N'Jadaka, son of Prince N'Jobu," T'Challa finally— _finally_ —says, and M'Baku immediately sobers. "My uncle was a war dog in America and his assignment… radicalized him. Convinced him that Wakanda could no longer stay quiet while the less fortunate in other parts of the world suffered. He knew my father would do nothing and decided to force Wakanda's hand by betraying our secrets to an arms dealer. My father found out and confronted him."

Revelation lights up in M'Baku's eyes. "The outsider at the border is your cousin."

"Yes," T'Challa says. It is still a strange thought. To spend all these years not knowing he had family across the Atlantic… he can't imagine how N'Jadaka felt knowing his extended family had abandoned him. "He had my grandfather's ring as proof. That is why the Border Tribe gave him passage into Wakanda. That is why he was able to challenge me for the throne."

M'Baku says nothing for longer than T'Challa is comfortable with. His hands curl back into fists as he waits for a reaction, swallowing back the acrid taste of anger, shock, and hurt. Zuri's admission runs amok in his mind.

_"We had to maintain the lie."_

And everyone paid the price.

"What sort of man is he, this N'Jadaka?" M'Baku asks sensibly.

"A violent one," T'Challa replies immediately. It is the only answer he can give, the one a fellow leader deserves. Wherever N'Jadaka went, death followed. "He hates everything I stand for because my father killed his and left him behind with no one and no way home. He hates everything Wakanda stands for because we abandoned him. He hates the world for seeing him as less than human. He's here to remake Wakanda in his image, and he has the vibranium weapons to do it. It is why I must go back."

Again, M'Baku takes time to answer. He strokes his chin while staring intently at a light globe to T'Challa's left. "He wants more than that. You share blood and he nearly killed you, and a part of you wishes he did. Why is that?"

He is having trouble breathing. "Why do you want to know?"

"I need to repeat myself?" M'Baku scowls. "You told me your cousin overthrew you to use your technology and bring war to Wakanda. But that anger started somewhere and it burned and burned for a very long time." He steps forward, never breaking eye contact. "What does he really want?"

_"We had to maintain the lie."_

"You said you watched us from afar for years," T'Challa says slowly. "Were we the only ones you kept an eye on? Did you also watch the world beyond your mountains?"

M'Baku frowns, confused. "We keep to ourselves. We only scare away those who wander into our lands by accident. We want nothing to do with their world."

"But what did your people _see_?" T'Challa asks. He knows what his father saw. He knows what the Hatut Zeraze saw. He knows why it drove his uncle to betray Wakanda. He knows why Nakia wants Wakanda to stop hiding from the world.

"I do not know much," M'Baku says, "besides never-ending war, the disparity between poverty and prosperity, people clinging to their dying ways and people abandoning it for the empty gratification of technology."

T'Challa would heave a sigh but restrains himself. "And did you think about doing something about it? Did you think about taking in refugees fleeing war and famine or sending-"

"Why _are_ we talking about this?" M'Baku interrupts. "This has nothing to do with your cousin."

"It has _everything_ to do with him," T'Challa retorts. "We, Wakandan and Jabari, chose to hide behind our shields and mountains to keep our secrets even while our neighbors suffered. We thought our greatest duty was to protect our people at all cost. We would do anything to maintain a lie instead of doing what is right."

M'Baku says nothing. He stands stone-faced, unmoving and unreadable, and T'Challa suddenly feels very tired. He looks away and stares at the light globes on the wall.

"My father killed his brother and abandoned my cousin to protect Wakanda. He chose his country over his blood, but N'Jadaka knew the truth. And that truth led him back to Wakanda." T'Challa draws in a deep, wet breath. He winces when it pulls something in his side. "He is full of hate because my father took everything from him. He will not rest until he takes everything from me. Wakanda, the world, that is all just collateral damage."

The silence from M'Baku is deafening. T'Challa does not look at him but he feels the man's outsized presence, the weight of his gaze. T'Challa can't breathe.

"N'Gamo was right," M'Baku suddenly says and T'Challa flinches. N'Gamo again; who is he and how important is he to the Great Gorilla? "You need to leave."

He wishes he didn't have to say this. "It does not matter. Once he is done with me, he will come for you."

"Me? I have done nothing wrong," the Great Gorilla replies incredulously. "I am not the one who wronged him."

"How dare you-"

" _I do dare!_ " M'Baku retorts. "Hanuman decides that you must live and tells me it is time to come down from these mountains. My people questioned me because of you and I have kept silent. I have said nothing about you being here. Now I learn you bring danger to us all. What cruel joke is Hanuman playing? What have we done to deserve this?"

This entire, agonizing conversation has spun out of T'Challa's grasp. "I have nothing to do with your god."

"He decided your life was worth more than my tribe's. I cannot accept that. I will not. I will speak to N'Didi. You will be gone before N'Jadaka sniffs you out."

T'Challa is too tired, too hurt, to protest. He buries his face in his hands. "You have your warning."

He does not move until M'Baku is long gone. He drops his hands in his lap and stares at the tears glistening on them.

* * *

* * *

* * *

They are at Baba's door again, asking if he's seen you since that Day. He frowns at the five Border tribesmen and shakes his head. They persist for over a minute and then he orders them away. Your heart hurts but you know it is better this way. Better to know nothing than to be caught in a lie. You clench your hands when you see the sorrow on his face as he goes back inside the house.

You look up at the sky; it is almost time. Still, you linger in the alleyway, looking at your home for just a few more seconds. And then you turn and slip away.

It has been four days since he fell. Four days since the news was broadcast to everybody else. You watched and listened to the shock and confusion on their faces as they learn what became of the long-missing prince N'Jobu. The new king hides nothing. It is his weapon. You heard people talk amongst themselves, gossiping in the shadows, wondering how King T'Chaka could do such a thing to his own brother and nephew. How could he just abandon a Wakandan prince, his own family, his own people, his own flesh and blood?

Still, many distrust the new king. He can’t hide that he is an outsider. He doesn't speak like them, dress like them, think like them, act like them. He is only king because it is his birthright. He is only king because he is the son of N'Jobu, grandson of Chanda, victor over the former king T'Challa.

You keep your head down and your scarf snug around your head and shoulders. You make sure to obscure your face and turn to the market stalls whenever a group of Border tribesmen pass by. There are so many of them now, watching for signs of trouble and for the missing royal family. Their presence is unsettling and people complain to each other, to their elders, to Baba. 

"Why are they here? Why are they armed? Are they looking for reason to hurt us? What is W'Kabi thinking? Can't you tell him how unhappy we are?"

You duck into a butcher's shop to avoid another group of Border tribesmen. You tell the distracted kanina behind the counter that you need five large strips of sun-dried goat meat. She doesn't look up once while wrapping the food and handing it to you. Her eyes are on her bead's video display as she takes your money. You tuck the bundle under your arm and go back out into the street. You look up at the sky again. You need to hurry.

The Amanzi Kwakhona Umlambo is nearby. You weave through the streets and alleyways, careful not to draw suspicion, until you reach the thick groves of trees between village and river. Unmarked paths wind through the woods down to the riverbank; you pick one and go, mindful of your footing on the soft earth. The air is thick and damp and you swat flies away while walking to the rendezvous point. You chose this hour because few people are on the riverbank but you take care to leave no trace of yourself behind. If you are caught, it will only be a matter of time before the princess, queen mother, and the CIA agent are found, too.

The Border tribesmen are not the only ones patrolling the various villages. You activate your modified kimoyo bead as you hurry, looking for the Dora Milaje's signatures. They are near the south end of the village, "assisting" the Border tribesmen and making it clear to the River people that the king is watching.

You come to the marshes near the widest part of the river. You shield your eyes from the sun while wading into the muddy waters, searching for danger. The fishermen and the cargo ships are on the other side of the river, chasing fish and moving crates. You hope they do not contain vibranium weapons.

You look down at your bead again and see a Dora leaving the village. She makes her way down to the river with all haste and no one follows her. You kneel in the mud, hiding amongst the reeds, until you hear a whistle. You follow it until you see Ayo standing in the shadow of the trees. 

"Sister Ayo," you say, relieved.

Her smile is a glorious sight after three days and nights of running from familiar faces. You hold her tightly in your arms.

"Sister Nakia," she says softly, tersely, after you part. "Are you well? Are the queen mother and princess well?"

"They are tired but safe."

She does not ask where you hid them away because she cannot know. It is safer that way.

"How is Okoye?" You wish you did not part with her on such bitter terms, but she made her decision. "Is she well?"

Ayo sighs. "She is fine and doing her best but with W'Kabi there… it is inevitable." She looks across the Amanzi Kwakhona Umlambo. "Those are crates of vibranium tech. Weapons. Explosives. Tonight, the first dragonflyers leave. It will be in stages. Once the Hatut Zeraze have their shipments, war begins."

Your heart sinks. You are running out of time. "I need time."

"I don't know how to give it," Ayo replies. She does not ask what your plans are. Again, it is safer that way. "We serve the throne, no matter how we feel about the person who sits in it. You cannot ask me to sabotage the shipments."

"I'm not," you say. You never can, the same way you can never push Okoye to abandon her post. What did Okoye say about you? What can a spy do that a Dora cannot? "He must be forced to look elsewhere. Not out there at the rest of the world but within. I must bring Wakanda to a halt."

"And how will you accomplish that?"

What do you recall from your years of observation? What did other people do to disrupt countries, governments? What did N'Jadaka do before he went rogue?

"Do the people know what he is planning to do?" you ask.

"Few outside the Border Tribe, the Dora, the WDG, and the Council know it," she replies.

When was the last time the people disagreed with their king? What do they really know about the former American operative who is also N'Jobu's lost son? When you told T'Challa why you cannot be his queen, you were not the only one who felt the same about Wakanda's potential. You were not the first to express interest in helping the less fortunate rather than abuse Wakanda's economic and military might. Surely they will speak up if and when N'Jadaka decides to try conquest. 

"The people must know the truth," you say decisively. "They will know and they will rise up. N'Jadaka will have no choice but to look inward. It will buy me time."

"You are putting the people in the line of fire!" Ayo exclaims. "I realize that war dogs are asked to do questionable things for the good of Wakanda, but this is—Nakia, you cannot."

"What choice do we have?" you ask. "If he succeeds, Wakanda will be forced onto the world stage before anyone is prepared for it. He is forcing us out of centuries of secrecy and he will do it violently. Should we say nothing? Should we allow our people to struggle, to suffer while Wakanda falls to foreign powers? I will not let it. Will you?"

She glowers at you, her mouth a thin line and the furrow between her brow deep. "W'Kabi hasn't exactly been generous lately. If he hears of this-"

"I will already be gone," you say. "I told you, I only need time."

"Are their lives worth whatever time you need?"

You think of your plan, your far-fetched plan hiding with the queen mother, Shuri, and Agent Ross. It is a shot in the dark, but you must take it. "I am trying to save Wakanda, Ayo. Please. Help me with this."

She stares at you with hard eyes, searching your face. After a moment, her shoulders slump and she nods once. "This could end poorly, but I will help. If you need time, then I will buy it. None of it will trace back to you." She takes you by the shoulder, a firm steady grip. "I hope this works."

"So do I," you say.

Ayo doesn't let you go. "There is one more thing. King N'Jadaka burned the gardens at Necropolis. He ordered the shamans at the other villages to do the same with the cultivars. He will be the last panther."

Not the last, you wish you could say but you do not. Instead you pretend to be heartbroken. Horrified. "Bast help us."

"I know," Ayo says and embraces you again. She does not let go for several long seconds. "I must go, Sister. Bast be with you."

You say the same and watch her leave, keeping to the shadows to shroud her bright red armor. Once she is out of sight, you continue south along the river. There is a cache wedged in between the roots of a large tree with enough food and water for the journey south to the mountains. You pull the bag out of the damp cold earth, brush it clean, and add the goat meat before continuing along the Amanzi Kwakhona Umlambo. There is a bend in the river and behind it a cove, a place where you used to play with T'Challa when you were little. Its entrance is masked by long tree roots bursting from the hill above it, making it impossible to see if one doesn't know where to look.

You look around before walking up the riverbank to it. You whistle in short bursts and someone cautiously pushes aside the tree roots to peer out. Agent Ross sighs in relief and beckons you inside. The queen mother and Shuri sit around a small fire; Shuri is curled up next to her mother, who is humming an old lullaby while cradling a woven bag holding the very last heart-shaped herb. Your heart breaks at the sight but there is no time for sorrow. You must outrace a war.

"Here," you say, pulling food and water out of the bag to pass around. "Eat and drink what you can. We must move in ten minutes."

"What did you learn?" Shuri asks while shredding a piece of goat meat with her fingers.

You tell them about the Border tribesmen, the unrest in the villages, and your meeting with Ayo. You tell them that Okoye is trying to prevent war but if the king wills it, she must obey him. You tell them you and Ayo have a plan to slow N'Jadaka down while you race south to Jabariland.

"I don't like this, Nakia," the queen mother says. Her voice is hoarse from exhaustion and grief, though she still holds her head high. "You cannot trust them."

"I don't trust them either, but we don't have a choice. We need an army."

"And they are still part of Wakanda," Shuri says while throwing pieces of meat into the fire. "What happens here will happen to them, too. Tell them everything Ayo told you. If that M'Baku can come down from the mountains to insult my work to my face, imagine what he'll do if he learns about N'Jadaka-"

" _Don't_ say his name," the queen mother says. "I cannot bear to hear it. And don’t waste that."

"Sorry, Mother," Shuri says and quietly finishes her food.

You wonder why Shuri is suddenly defending the Jabari. She sees your confusion and shrugs. "I revisited my history and culture lessons. You always hear about them but to actually meet them… I know he's our only chance, even if he's wrong about everything."

You smile and so does she.

"Don't say that in front of him," the queen mother says mildly.

"I know, I know."

Once everyone has taken a few sips of water from their bottles, you tell Agent Ross to smother the fire and bury it. Shuri and the queen mother gather up the thick Border blankets and the heart-shaped herb, and follow you to the back of the cove. You light a kimoyo bead and search for a gap in the craggy mossy stone. There is a way out that follows a stream running under the hills above, and you follow it.

"How did you know about this place?" Shuri asks.

"T'Challa and I found it a long time ago," you say. You almost regret uttering his name when you hear grief-stricken silence. "We told nobody else about it."

After an eternity of near darkness and silence, you step out into the afternoon sun and miles of grassland.

"How long will it take to get there?" Shuri asks, staring at the distant purple mountains. "Three days? Four?"

"Three days if we are lucky," you say. "This stream will take us back to the river and then we follow it south to the mountains. There is a road that should take us to the Jabari stronghold."

With evening comes a cool damp wind from faraway Lake Kivu and everyone takes a blanket to wrap around their shoulders. Agent Ross falls in step next to you, readying himself to ask questions.

"Your father, he's the leader of a Wakandan tribe?"

"Yes. He leads the River Tribe."

He considers the information. "Then why doesn't your father overthrow the king?"

"The king has not done anything to make my father doubt him. He may be an outsider but he did everything right."

"But—but your father knows what's about to happen-"

"N'Jadaka is backed by the Border Tribe," Shuri says, pretending not to see her mother flinch. "W'Kabi turned on T'Challa so I wouldn’t trust him. When I see him, I'm going to-"

"Do not finish that thought," the queen mother says tiredly. "Nakia is right, Agent Ross. Unless the king does something truly terrible, her father will see no reason to challenge him."

Agent Ross presses his thin lips tightly while his brow scrunches up. He is dissatisfied with the answer. "That's a bit ridiculous, don't you think? You know he's putting Wakanda in danger. Does it really matter that he became king 'the right way' if you know he isn't the right man for the job?"

You can't help but laugh. He sounds earnest, sincere, like he really cares for Wakanda's well-being. You know better. You studied agencies like his. You know their secrets.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asks.

"I am just amused to hear that from a CIA agent," you say. "You think we don’t know what you people did during your Cold War?"

He grimaces and looks away. "Forget I said anything. You know better than I do."

Misguided as his questions are, they leave you wondering about Okoye. She knows N'Jadaka is dangerous to Wakanda, more dangerous than even M'Baku, yet she decided to remain in Birnin Zana. She would serve the throne even if the king was unfit to rule from it. You don't know how she stands it. Four days and now four nights, and Ayo confirmed that she is still there, still sitting at the Council staring across the floor at the man who killed her friend and king. 

What will it take for her to turn on N'Jadaka? You wish she will never have to answer that question but that is a fool's hope. N'Jadaka is forcing everyone to question who they are and why, though you already had an answer when Okoye asked. It is the answer that led you out of Wakanda and away from T'Challa in the first place.

You loved him but he is not here, he cannot help you save Wakanda. You will save it, even if it means taking Wakanda's last hope into the heart of Jabariland.


	2. Transitions

The sky was still dark when M'Baku stepped outside, fur cowl around his shoulders and knobkerrie in hand. He watched the edge of the sky slowly pale while waiting for N'Gamo to appear.

"Back to the sanctuary already, M'Baku?" N'Gamo asked, too cranky for titles. "Did Hanuman not give you the answers you wanted?"

"He gave me answers, but not the ones I need," he replied. "If anyone asks…."

"I will keep quiet," N'Gamo said. 

Something about his expression made M'Baku hesitate. "What is it?"

N'Gamo looked at the mountaintop rather than him. "I worry. You have not been yourself since the panther king woke. Your attention, your mind, is not here. What troubles you?"

M'Baku had no intention of telling anyone about his argument with T'Challa last night until after he meditated on it. "Everything troubles me."

"That is the burden all leaders bear," his adviser said with tired patience. "You think I don't know where you went last night? No, N'Didi did not tell me. I know you well enough."

M'Baku huffed and his breath steamed in the air. The sun was rising higher and the first golden rays touched the craggy wall behind them. "I was dissatisfied with Hanuman’s answers and sought truer ones. I am still dissatisfied."

He frowned when N'Gamo sighed and shook his head. "I told you. These panthers cannot be trusted. They will never give the answer you need when it doesn't suit them, and it never does."

"Yet I need those answers. _We_ need them. I must know what to expect when the new king comes for us."

"What does that mean?" N'Gamo asked slowly. "What did Damisa-Sarki say about his usurper?"

It was an ugly confrontation that confirmed all of M'Baku's worst fears about Wakanda. He had stormed back to his chambers furious, disgusted with what the panther kings had wrought. Centuries upon centuries of secrets and lies culminating in the abandonment of one of their own to protect that _metal_. Who wouldn't be surprised that this N'Jadaka returned to Wakanda full of hatred for the homeland that left him behind? It was their “luck” that he was of royal blood and therefore able to challenge for the throne.

And T'Challa knew. It was why he showed no real fight when M'Baku confronted him. It was a pitiful display, pathetic, but M'Baku did not feel sorry for him. He felt no sympathy for the former king because T'Challa was a reason why the Jabari were now in danger. There was no predicting a vengeful man and M'Baku was not about to see Jabariland razed just so N'Jadaka could kill his cousin one final time.

"He gave me a warning," M'Baku chose to say. Their exchange was too heavy to explain now, when he was still untangling the rest of his thoughts. "He understands that he must leave quickly to protect us."

N'Gamo snorted. "Since when did he care about us? It is only because we saved him that he shows us concern."

"Perhaps," M'Baku said. "Morning will soon be here. Keep the others busy until I return."

"I will. Hanuman grant you the answers you seek, Great Gorilla."

The shamans were shocked to find M'Baku in the receiving room again, shaking snow off his feet while removing his bracers. They glanced at each other nervously and then one approached him while clearing her throat.

"Great Gorilla-"

"I have not eaten today," he said. "I wish to meditate on a thought."

"Yes, Great Gorilla," she replied and left to prepare the incense and embers.

Another entered the room, the old shaman from yesterday. He merely raised an eyebrow at M'Baku. "Did Hanuman's answers not satisfy you?"

"No," M'Baku replied simply. "I seek clarification."

"You cannot expect Hanuman to give you precise answers to all of your questions, Great Gorilla," the shaman said. "No god would give you everything so that you learn nothing."

He exhaled harshly through his nose. "I do not want easy answers, shaman, but any answer would be better than what he told me."

"Hanuman is both benevolent and clever. It may take time to truly understand his intent."

"Time that I don't have," M'Baku said. "But if that is what he tells me today, I will accept it."

He left for the underground lake. Morning light streamed into the inner chamber from above and the surface glowed gold. The dead Jabari tree was a beautiful and lonely sight, and M'Baku walked to it as though in a trance. He went through the motions of lighting the dried sap and sat down before the altar. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent. It filled his lungs and his head.

_Why do you bother me, little gorilla? It is so early._

He opened his eyes. The great white shape sat near the altar, picking at the glowing green plants growing between the dead roots of the tree. 

"I have questions."

_About Damisa-Sarki, child of Bast. You think he is a threat._

"Wakanda is a threat," M'Baku clarified. "You know what they did."

_I know what King T'Chaka did. I know what King Chanda did. I can name the sins of every panther king. I can tell you about the day Bast approached Bashenga and told him her secrets. But I won't._

M'Baku held back his next words. It would do no good to lose his temper in front of Hanuman. "Why did you save T'Challa?"

The great white shape stopped plucking plants. It slowly came down from the roots of the tree and walked around the altar. It stood in front of M'Baku but he could not see it. The face blurred every time he tried to focus. 

_Do you not trust me, little gorilla? Do you think I have not watched and mourned your losses, your hardships? The world grows smaller and the stars are closer. There is a moment to hold fast and a moment to change. Tell me what this moment is._

What did T'Challa say last night? Did he not say that the Jabari were a part of Wakanda's reckoning? "You believe we cannot protect ourselves?"

_You should not bear your burdens alone. Come down from the mountains, little gorilla. You have outgrown them._

The words washed over M'Baku like frigid mountain water. "What does that mean?"

The great white shape climbed back up into the twisting roots of the dead tree. It settled in the crook of a wide root and looked up at the broken ceiling.

_Why did you challenge T'Challa?_

M'Baku blinked and Hanuman was gone. The incense had burned down to ashes and a light breeze carried the wispy smoke out over the lake. He rubbed his face and then slowly climbed to his feet. He stared at the dead tree for a little longer, eyes tracing its brittle beauty, and then left the sanctuary.

Only the old shaman was in the receiving room. He offered M'Baku a pitcher of fresh water and a bowl, and waited while M'Baku drank and washed his face. 

"Did you find the answers you were looking for?"

M'Baku fastened on his fur cowl and bracers. "I have much to think on."

"As you should, M'Baku," the shaman said solemnly. "These are not easy times. The world changes and we must change with it."

M'Baku paused while picking up his knobkerrie. "Did Hanuman tell you?"

The shaman looked at him curiously. "Hanuman only told me what I needed to know."

What other answer was he expecting from a shaman? M'Baku shook his head and turned away. "I apologize for the lack of ritual, shaman. The next time-"

"Apologize for nothing. You are the Great Gorilla. What you do, you do so for us." The shaman thumped his chest once and left.

M'Baku took his time hiking down the snowy mountain path back to the stronghold. Already, he was forgetting Hanuman's words. They were dissipating into a fog in his head, leaving behind impressions and Hanuman's insistence that the Jabari must return to Wakanda.

 _He never told baba this_ , M'Baku thought. _He never told anyone this but me. What changed? What did I do differently?_

The easy answer was that a new king sat on Wakanda's throne and the former king was hiding in his mountains. The harder answer was that M'Baku broke with the Jabari's self-imposed centuries of isolation because he was tired of watching from the mountains, unheard and forgotten. That brought him into contact with Wakanda and wove a connection between tribe and nation.

_Why did you challenge T'Challa?_

Because he wanted the panther king to have a face to remember the Mountain Tribe by. Because he wanted Damisa-Sarki to have a voice reminding him that vibranium was just as much a curse as it was a gift. Because he wanted T’Challa to know who was right when his nation fell.

But M'Baku did not want the Jabari to fall with him. He did not want N'Jadaka to burn the river valley searching for the former king or during his attempted conquest. M’Baku did not want the Jabari to be victims of the man's war on the rest of the world.

This was not why he came down from the mountains. This was not why he decided to challenge T'Challa. He did not ask for this, but Hanuman was right—the Jabari could not continue depending on themselves to survive when even the climate was turning against them. But was Wakanda really the answer? 

_"We would do anything to maintain a lie instead of doing what is right."_

* * *

* * *

"Tortoise steal your tongue today, Damisa-Sarki?" N'Didi asks while stirring a pungent mix of water, dried roots, and leaves in a pot on the brazier. 

T'Challa's nose twitches at the smell but he does not look up from the book. He is in no mood to talk. He barely had the energy to sit up when she came in.

"A difficult night, then," she says in a more sober tone. "I understand."

He smiles faintly as she sets the cup of bitter tea next to his morning meal and leaves the chamber without another word. He is grateful she recognizes his need for silence, for solitude. She is right about his night, though it was not because of his torturous dreams of dying a failure or watching helplessly as a nameless Panther loomed over his dead father.

He eases himself off the stone bed and lurches over to the table. Walking is easier. His knees don't give out and the room no longer spins. He tires less and less but he is still breathing harshly when he sits on the stool and his heart still pounds too rapidly against his healing bones. He looks at the steaming tea but does not drink it yet.

He wishes to have a clear head when M'Baku returns. He will face the Great Gorilla's demands with the dignity and respect a leader deserves from another. But for now he waits and contemplates. Last night's confrontation left him hollowed out, a brittle shell, but his shoulders feel lighter. A burden he didn't realize he carried is gone. 

"What changed?" he murmurs to himself.

There is only one answer. He told M'Baku the truth—all of it—no matter how poorly it painted him, his father, and Wakanda. It was one thing to confide in Nakia, who understood how Wakanda thought and worked. It was another to tell M'Baku, whose people lived in isolation for so long that they even spoke differently. 

A small part of him had selfishly hoped that M'Baku would understand. Was he not already living a life full of difficult decisions that help some and hurt others? He must understand the burden of being responsible for the safety and well-being of the people. He must understand why T'Challa's father made the decision that set the road to this moment in time.

T'Challa couldn't fault M'Baku for his fury, though. His mistakes, his father's mistakes, his ancestors' mistakes, all conspired to create someone with N'Jadaka's wrath and vision. Who pays the price? 

_I do_ , he thinks while pulling the tray of food and N'Didi's book to him. _Again and again, because I am the king. I am Wakanda._

He slowly eats while reading the tale of a young warrior named Mandla. It is one of many stories about the Jabari's relationship with benevolent white gorillas and the dark leopards that often served as obstacles and antagonists. The stories that intrigue him the most, however, feature tortoises, hares, and even a spider. It seems the outside world had slipped into the Jabari conscience before they established their boundaries.

He mentions it to N'Didi later. "The Yoruba have tales about Àjàpá, a trickster tortoise. They are very similar to the ones you have here."

She smiles wryly while checking his wounds. "The Jabari like to believe we always lived apart, but that was never the case." She frowns while peeling back the gauze over his side. "Are you feeling well, Damisa-Sarki?"

"As well as I can be," he replies. Worry prickles up his back at her expression. "What is wrong?"

"Your side is healing slower than I'd like," she says and carefully probes the wound. "What is important is that it is not infected, which it is not. That is good."

"What does that mean for me, umakhulu?" he asks slowly while she replaces the gauze with a clean one. "How long am I to be here?"

"A week, perhaps. You are not returning to your golden city while this is still healing unless you want it to tear," N'Didi says while cleaning her hands. "As I tell you again and again, aggravating it will only make things worse."

He sighs and drags a hand down his face. He stops at his thick beard and rubs his chin. "Then may I at least have a razor?"

She offers him one. "Anything else, panther king?"

He thinks about last night. "Where is the Great Gorilla? I need to speak to him."

"Elsewhere. I will let him know."

Once T'Challa is alone, he gets off his stone bed and limps over to the pool, wincing every time his steps jolt his bandaged side. Why is it that changing the bandage makes it hurt even more? He sits at the ledge and sets the razor down before carefully peeling back the gauze. He stares at the neat stitches and the pale pink stain on the inside of the bandage, and sighs. It seems one or both gods is determined to keep him here for a while longer. 

He wishes one of them can tell him why.

* * *

* * *

M'Baku left the mountain grove in somewhat better spirits. Being surrounded by tall Jabari trees while Yejide and the botanists showed him new sorghum cultivars was a much-needed distraction from Hanuman's troubling wisdom and he welcomed it wholeheartedly. He even answered N'Gamo's call with a wide smile.

"N'Gamo."

"Great Gorilla," N'Gamo said, his voice tinny through the bracer's communicator. "I have word from Ce'Athauna."

His smile slipped away. The rest of his worries sank into his gut, dragging him to a stop. He peered out a window overlooking the river valley while asking, "What did she say?"

"Nothing good. She will be here in an hour."

He resumed walking. "You know where to meet. Bring her there when she arrives."

"Understood, Great Gorilla." N'Gamo hesitated and then lowered his voice to a loud whisper. "We must discuss your visit to the sanctuary."

"We do not," M'Baku replied.

"Whatever answers you received clearly trouble you. You know Hanuman's whims. His wisdom is never for only one pair of ears."

"That is for me to decide," he said irritably. "First I must hear from Ce'Athauna. I must know if her information is relevant."

N'Gamo did not speak but M'Baku knew his communicator was still active. He kept walking, waiting for his adviser to speak again.

"It is about the panther king, isn't it? Damisa-Sarki, who has plagued you since before he was crowned."

"No," he said curtly. "Hanuman’s wisdom was for me."

N'Gamo was slow to respond. "I see. Then I will defer to your judgment, Great Gorilla. I will see you within the hour."

M'Baku stopped to frown at his bracer. N'Gamo's resigned tone was strange; what did M'Baku say to hear it from him? Was it so difficult to understand that he was not ready to speak about Hanuman's unsettling words? 

_Come down from the mountains, little gorilla. You have outgrown them._

He clenched his hands. "What do you ask of me, Hanuman?"

No soundless voice answered. He continued down the hall to a small receiving room. It was set well away from the busier hallways, meaning fewer people would see N'Gamo or Ce'Athauna ducking into it. M'Baku sat on a wooden bench facing the windows, switched off his communicator, folded his arms tightly, and waited.

He started awake when N'Gamo and Ce’Athauna entered the room. He sat up and rubbed sleep out of his eyes, shook his head to shed the phantom sensation of panther claws on his chest and teeth hovering over his throat. He turned to N'Gamo and then Ce'Athauna, who looked so strange in her disguise.

"You entered the stronghold wearing that?" he asked, eying the patterned blanket around her shoulders.

"That's your first question?" she asked. "Not, how did you fare running around in Wakanda for three days, dear cousin? Or, what did you learn about the outsider king?"

M'Baku resisted rolling his eyes, but then N'Gamo said, "He told you."

M'Baku stared at him and then at Ce'Athauna, whose confused frown began to turn into anger. "Eventually. But he has been here since. He doesn’t know what the new king is doing now."

"I do," Ce'Athauna said. "He's mobilizing the war dogs. I saw vibranium weapons being loaded into their dragonflyers. King N'Jadaka is readying for war."

"Does he not know what that will do to Wakanda?" N'Gamo asked. "To us?"

She shrugged. "I don't think he even cares. He is an outsider, a trained American black-ops soldier. He has no connection here. He does not belong, and the others know it."

"Then someone should challenge him to stop this," N'Gamo muttered.

"There is no one who can," she said, "and if they did, they would only put the people in danger. The rules have changed."

"He sounds like a true panther, ruthless, secretive, placing his concerns above all others," N'Gamo said. "M'Baku, how are we to deal with him?"

M'Baku leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. What could the Jabari possibly do? They had their natural terrain, the Jabari wood, technology developed with half a mind on countering Wakandan vibranium. They did not have the numbers nor a panther king's rage. and even if N'Jadaka didn't reach them, the rest of the world would during this panther king's war.

_Damisa-Sarki is the only one who can stop him._

"Do you know when he plans to strike?" M'Baku asked.

Ce'Athauna shook her head. "I have heard nothing of the sort. Most people aren't even aware of it." She then pondered something with a deep frown. "They are aware of _something_ , though. I heard complaints in a Merchant town about the Border tribesmen and Dora Milaje patrolling the streets and outskirts."

"He expects threats to his throne, even if he won it through ritual combat," N'Gamo deduced. "Now why is that?"

"He trusts no one," M'Baku said flatly. "It is not always so complicated."

"I did hear," Ce'Athauna said slowly, "that the queen mother and princess are missing. Some said they fled after N'Jadaka was crowned. Others believe they are dead." She looked at M'Baku. "Are you going to tell him?"

That was a question with no good answer. False hope could encourage T'Challa to leave Jabariland more quickly, but false hope could also break and strand him in Jabariland indefinitely. After last night's confrontation, M'Baku was certain that it would. He did not want to be there when it happened

"Maybe. Maybe not. He has been desperate for news of his family."

"If it would get him out of the mountains-"

M'Baku huffed and N'Gamo fell silent. "There is no reason to believe N'Jadaka will leave us alone. T'Challa said he could buy us time to prepare. We should begin now."

He did not miss the darkening storm on N'Gamo's face or the shock in his cousin's. N'Gamo was the first to speak. "You know what you ask of us."

He nodded. "Do it quietly. The people must survive."

Ce'Athauna had nothing more to say about her mission so M'Baku rose to his feet. "Relay orders to our eyes in Wakanda, N'Gamo. I must know about the dragonflyers."

"Yes, Great Gorilla," N'Gamo said, glanced between him and Ce'Athauna, and left. 

Once they were alone, Ce'Athauna tossed her wooden bangle at him and began removing her disguise. "Flimsy thing. I hate its weight. Better to feel the solid embrace of Jabari wood than to put my trust in this vibranium weave."

She folded the thick patterned blue blanket of the Border Tribe carelessly and tucked it under her arm. It certainly looked weak and could be a hindrance in close combat, but the shield the vibranium weave activated was as strong as Jabari armor. It was the Border Tribe's clever secret.

"I did not know we were on a first name basis with the panther king," she said reproachfully.

He sighed inwardly. The name had slipped out without thought. "I owe him no deference. He was king of Wakanda, not of the Jabari."

She considered his answer. "Fair enough. N'Gamo told me you went to the sanctuary. What did you ask?"

M'Baku frowned. What else did N'Gamo tell her? Did she know this was his second visit in as many days? "I asked why he allowed N'Didi to save Damisa-Sarki's life."

Ce'Athauna shook her head, confirming his suspicions. "I mean _today_ , cousin."

"He was annoyed with my questions," he chose to say. "He was impatient with me because I was not satisfied with the wisdom he gave."

"Wasting Hanuman's time, that is a new one. What answers did you want him to give?"

"Anything that did not put us in danger," he said. "But he did because…."

_Come down from the mountains, little gorilla. You have outgrown them._

Ce'Athauna stared at him. "He told you why and you disagreed."

"We are to come down from the mountains," he muttered, staring at his hands instead of at her. "We are to follow T'Challa when he leaves."

He looked up when she didn't react. Ce'Athauna was still staring at him, her eyes wide and her knuckles pale as they clenched tightly. "He wants us to return to Wakanda with him? Why, what did Damisa-Sarki do to convince Hanuman of that?"

 _It is not him. It is me._ "He is the only one who can stop N'Jadaka. He is the reason for the outsider king's rage, which is why he must go back."

"N'Gamo said you have not sent him out yet. He is awake, yes? He is awake and well, but you hesitate-"

"He is awake but not well. N'Didi says he is healing all wrong," M'Baku replied more bitterly than he meant to. "He may be here for a very long time."

"Time that we do not have," Ce'Athauna replied. She huffed while staring out the window at the snowy peaks. "This was not what I wanted to hear when I came back. The panther king cannot leave and Hanuman wants us to follow Bast."

"We are not following Bast," M'Baku said firmly. "Hanuman believes I must be a voice for the Jabari."

"Join the king's council with the leaders of the other four tribes? You will be drowned out by those who never cared. Those are not good odds."

He laughed. "Do you think we have ever been quiet? We may have watched from the mountains but we were never silent. That is why no foolish Wakandan wanders into our lands." His eyes also turned to the mountains surrounding Jabariland. "But I don't know if this is the right way. Jabari lives will be given for this, and I can't accept that sacrifice even if Hanuman tells me to do it."

"Not for a king whose people had forgotten us," she agreed. "But what are we supposed to do when N'Jadaka comes here? Are we leaving the mountains and becoming refugees in someone else's lands?"

"I will not sacrifice our people's lives for this," M'Baku said. "When the mountains are empty again, we will return."

“Hanuman willing, it won’t come to that,” she says, "but I will prepare."

"That is all we can do," M'Baku sighed. "Thank you for your work, cousin. I will not bother you again today."

After she left, he set off in a different direction. It would be hours before his next engagement and someone needed to know how much time they didn't have left. He turned a corner and nearly collided with N'Didi.

"Great Gorilla!" she exclaimed. "I was just about to ask N'Gamo where you were. Yejide said you left an hour ago but you turned your communicator off."

"Is this about T'Challa?" he asked and then winced. 

She glanced around but the hall was empty. "Yes. He wishes to speak to you."

"And his condition?"

"Stable but slow to recover," she said. "I—I am starting to suspect that the plant is at the root of the problem."

M'Baku frowned. "But it saved him."

"And left him only partially whole," she replied. "It makes me wonder if he is meant to wait for something to happen."

M'Baku grimaced at her speculations. This was Hanuman's doing. He was playing a game with them both, frustrating all for reasons M'Baku could not guess. 

"I see," he said. "Thank you, N'Didi."

She nodded and left. He continued down the hall and then another and another, deeper into the mountain stronghold until he reached the healing chambers. It was late afternoon now; he wondered if the panther king was even awake.

T'Challa sat at the table, an open book under his elbow, staring distantly at a light globe next to the pool. He immediately looked up when M'Baku entered, and whatever greeting M'Baku thought to needle Damisa-Sarki with died at the back of his throat. This was not the same pitiful man from last night who sat in shame and shambles, spilling his family's terrible secrets. T'Challa was bright-eyed and alert, head held high; he had trimmed away his beard and hair, presenting a very different image of a far more confident and polished king. M'Baku found himself hesitating to enter the chamber and N'Gamo's warning about panthers bubbled back up in his mind.

"I was told you were busy," T'Challa said mildly while closing the book and pushing it aside. M'Baku recognized the cover and raised a curious eyebrow. "N'Didi claims I need a distraction and I wanted to know how the Jabari think."

"I think you already know," M'Baku said slowly while easing into the room. "I even told you at Warrior Falls."

T'Challa's smile twitched. "Yes, well, it is not the same as reading about your white gorillas. The Mandla stories seem very… pointed."

"What, the panther king didn't enjoy reading about a young warrior and a white gorilla slaying a black panther together?" M'Baku asked mockingly while sitting down at the table across from Damisa-Sarki.

T'Challa did not rise to the bait. Instead, he flipped the book open and turned to a page M'Baku knew well. "The story about a hunter saved by Hanuman was more interesting. Is that how it began? With a mountain lake and a white gorilla providing for a lost tribesman?"

"Perhaps," M'Baku replied. "At least we met him earlier than Bashenga met Bast."

T'Challa rolled his eyes. "This is not a contest. I only wanted to say that I've been reading your stories-"

"Stories that are not yours," he replied sharply, causing the panther king to flinch. The words left a bad taste in his mouth. "But… you are the first in many years to come here. I suppose it is only fair that you learn a little about the people you overlook."

The panther king sighed. "I cannot undo centuries, but I am not my ancestors. I am myself."

M'Baku sat back and looked him over. T'Challa did not twitch or fidget as he searched for an explanation for whatever changed the panther king between last night and now. "Did you knock yourself on the head, Damisa-Sarki? Are you well? You seem very confident today."

"Compared to last night?" T'Challa asked. "It was why I wanted to talk. I wanted to apologize for not telling you the truth about N'Jadaka sooner. I was not myself."

"You were overthrown and dying a few days ago," M'Baku pointed out. "That is usually the excuse."

"We are leaders. There never is an excuse." T'Challa squared his strong slim shoulders. "And I don't know what overcame me to unburden my worries on you the way I did. It was… unnecessary and unfair. I apologize for that."

Something about his apology tapped at the back of M'Baku's mind but he could not think of a reason. Instead he considered T'Challa's intent. Did he really want better relations between himself and the Jabari, or did he have another motive like N'Gamo suggested?

"You had no one else," M'Baku said slowly, carefully, watching the minute shifts in T'Challa's face. "Few understand the burden."

T'Challa's gaze softened and some tension left his shoulders. "I hope you won't hold it against me going forward."

"'Going forward'? You have a plan, Damisa-Sarki?" M'Baku asked, amused and terribly curious. "I should like to hear it."

T'Challa huffed and looked elsewhere. "I haven't thought that far ahead. Nothing will happen anyway until I fully recover." He touched his side absentmindedly, reminding M'Baku of N'Didi's unfortunate news. "Have you any news from Birnin Zana?"

M'Baku should tell him about Ce'Athauna. He should tell T'Challa about the vibranium weapons shipping out of Wakanda. He should say something about the missing queen mother and princess. He should, he should, he should, but that would shatter this uneasy yet amicable moment. He had never felt at ease around T'Challa before. He did not mind seeing such open warmth in the panther's brown eyes. To tell T'Challa what he knew would take that all away and bring back tension, the strain of their current situation. He did not want that today.

"Not yet," he said. His voice cracked and dragged, but he did not look away. Instead he nodded to the book. "What else did you learn about us?"

He held his breath until T'Challa spoke, smiling, amused. "Do you really want my opinion?"

M'Baku gestured at the book. "I insist."

* * *

* * *

* * *

T'Challa wakes before dawn to someone sitting on a stool in the chamber, watching him. He lurches into a defensive position—or he tries, but the heart-shaped herb does not course in his veins and his deepest wound flares white-hot. He doubles over, dragging in air through clenched teeth, pressing his hand to his side. 

"You're a twitchy one," his visitor remarks. "Do Wakandans like their kings to jump at shadows? I'm not impressed."

He waits until the pain subsides and he can uncurl himself. Once he can sit up straight, he turns to his surprise visitor. She is younger than him by a few years and bears a strong resemblance to M'Baku, from the husky build to the self-confident aura. Like M'Baku, she wears wooden armor trimmed with fur. Her face is marked with white chalk and her braided hair is pulled back, giving her a sharp, sparse look.

"Does this family have nothing but insults for me?" he sighs. 

Her smile is all teeth. "It comes with the territory, Damisa-Sarki, panther king." She surveys the chamber with disdain and pity. "How do you stand being in a place like this for more than a day?"

"When you've been stabbed, you try not to move too much," T'Challa replies. "You know who I am, but I am at a disadvantage here."

She leans back, bracing herself on the stone table behind her with an elbow. Her posture is deceptively casual but her gaze is keen, watching him closely. "I am Ce'Athauna, the cousin M'Baku has the misfortune of being related to."

"He never mentioned you," T'Challa says mildly. 

"Really? Nothing about what I've been doing until yesterday?" She frowns to herself. "Guess he was right."

"Who was?" T'Challa asks.

Ce'Athauna waves his question off and then looks at him straight in the eye. "My cousin didn't tell you I've been in Wakanda these past few days, sneaking around trying to learn who overthrew you?"

He stares at her. "What?"

Her eyebrow arches sharply. "M'Baku really didn't say anything? Do you know what is happening in your golden city?"

His heart is rattling his chest. He can't breathe. He goes hot and cold in bursts, and his hands clench so tightly his blunt nails sink into his palms. She has the answers he needs, the answers he's been waiting for since waking up. "What did you learn?"

She is looking elsewhere. "What was he thinking? I leave for five days-"

"What did you learn?" he repeats and his words are harder, his voice commanding.

Infuriatingly, she very slowly turns her gaze back to him and starts taping on her left bracer. "You are not my king, but five days is a very long time. King N'Jadaka has been shipping vibranium weapons to your war dogs stationed all over the world. He is planning a coordinated global strike and it is happening soon."

No one has been able to stop his cousin. With all of Wakanda's vibranium technology at his fingertips, N'Jadaka can devastate entire nations within days before they can react. T'Challa could see Birnin Zana fall in his lifetime if he does nothing.

"What about Wakanda?" he asks. "Is it stable?"

"Birnin Zana still stands. Your people mourn your death and have unkind words for your father, but they know nothing about your cousin's war. Elsewhere…." Ce'Athauna hesitates and his eyes narrow. "They question why Border tribesmen patrol the roads and villages and towns when they never did before. Your cousin wants eyes everywhere and the people notice."

He has one more question and braces himself before asking, "Have you heard anything about my family?"

Ce'Athauna doesn't answer immediately. She frowns deeply at a crack in the floor, brow furrowed in thought. His heart pounds louder and more painfully the longer she remains silent. _Please. Please tell me my family is safe. Tell me they are all right. Bast, I beg of you-_

"I don't have an answer," Ce'Athauna says. "In fact, nobody does. They have not been seen since the day you fell."

"So you don't know if they're alive or…." He cannot bring himself to complete the sentence.

She smiles sympathetically. "I'm afraid I don't know anything, Damisa-Sarki. I am sorry."

They might be dead. They might be alive. He must choose to believe the latter. He must hope he can find them after he returns to Wakanda. He touches his side again, probing the still-throbbing wound. How long before it heals? How long before he can walk out of this place and plan in earnest for his return?

"Thank you," he tells Ce'Athauna.

She shrugs. "I was only here to see why my cousin is still keeping you locked up in these mountains. He hasn't been acting like himself and I thought it was your doing."

T'Challa frowns. "All I did was defeat him in combat and wash up in his river."

She laughs at that and the bright sounds echo all around the chamber. "That's all you did. You are funnier than I thought." She suddenly narrows her eyes. "Then did he tell you? Did he say anything about yesterday morning?"

Why does she think M'Baku tells him anything? Didn't he just say that the Great Gorilla failed to mention anything about Wakanda after promising he'd say so? "What happened yesterday morning?"

"He went to the sanctuary seeking answers from Hanuman about you and your cousin-king. But Hanuman never tells you exactly what you want to hear, which is why you consult others. He tells me what Hanuman thinks we should do but I know him too well. What did he tell you?"

T'Challa is at a loss for words. M'Baku never mentioned a sanctuary or that he can commune with Hanuman. He never asked for T'Challa's opinion on such things. "He failed to tell me you had news from Wakanda. What made you think he'd say anything else?"

Ce'Athauna huffs loudly. "You are right. I'm just wasting my time." She rises to her feet. "I'll take my leave before N'Didi comes in."

She gives him a considering look before leaving. He sighs and rubs his face again before sliding to the edge of the bed and walking gingerly to the pool. He pours water into a large wooden bowl and splashes his face to clean off the rest of the night, and then sits at the edge, water dripping from his nose and chin. He breathes deeply and then shuts his eyes tightly, recalling last night. Nowhere in his long conversation with M'Baku did he suspect anything was off with the Great Gorilla. Nothing M'Baku did or said suggested he was withholding information that T'Challa desperately needed.

"You should have told me," he mutters angrily. "You should have said something. Anything."

Instead, he hears it from M'Baku's cousin. He exhales harshly and goes to the table where yesterday he sat and argued with M'Baku about the origins of several Jabari stories. He opens the book and reads while waiting for N'Didi to appear.

* * *

* * *

Ce'Athauna stared at him oddly all morning. M'Baku would ask but he was always in the midst of a discussion whenever he noticed and it wasn't like he did anything to earn that from her. He was certain of it. 

When he finally caught a breather between meetings, he went searching for his cousin. She was outside near the mountain path to the sanctuary, shin-deep in snow. She was staring down at the river valley where the sunlight glimmered on the water.

"Was Wakanda really that terrible?" he asked.

She snorted. "The weather was nice, the food was delicious, the people were kind, and the ground was mostly flat with a few hills and muddy riverbanks. But it's not Jabariland."

"There is nothing like Jabariland," he said, coming up to her side. "Something bothers you, cousin."

He waited for her to speak. She pressed her lips tightly and glanced at him sideways but took her time responding. "I saw him this morning."

"Damisa-Sarki."

"You mean T'Challa," she said. "Yes, I saw Damisa-Sarki. I wondered what you and Hanuman saw in him-"

"What does _that_ mean-"

"-so I spoke with him and I learned you never told him about me? You never told him what King N'Jadaka was doing? You did not think he needed to know?"

He bit his tongue and swore internally instead. No, he simply delayed telling T'Challa what he learned. What exactly was the panther king going to do with the information anyway? He was still in no condition to come down from the mountains so all M'Baku would've done was agitate him. _I wasn't going to add to his burdens yet. I just couldn't._

He shook himself out of his thoughts. "I was going to tell him later today, but you already did that for me. What did you say?"

"What, afraid I said some terrible, insulting, horrendous things about you?" she asked. "I told him what his cousin was doing. I told him Wakanda was still standing but his people don't know what is happening. I told him nobody knows what became of his family."

He pinched his nose bridge. "You told him everything."

"Yes. He was not happy with N'Jadaka or you. He looked so angry when I told him what I learned and when I asked if you told him anything about your visit to the sanctuary."

His heart leaped up his throat. " _Ce'Athauna_. That is not for him or any outsider to know. You know this."

"If Hanuman says we're following him down from the mountains, he should know as much as he can about us," she said, shrugging, nonchalant about her admission. "You have much explaining to do, and I suggest you do it soon."

She walked away, leaving him staring blankly at the mountains across the valley. He looked at the pathway on his left, which wound up through the mountains to the sanctuary. He wasn't going back up there to meditate on a question; Hanuman made it clear he said exactly what he needed to say and M'Baku needed to find sense in it on his own. Or with help.

"You are toying with me, Hanuman," he muttered while trudging back inside the stronghold. "How long before I understand why?"

No god answered while he walked to the healing chambers. His mood grew darker and darker, and others noticed, quickly stepping out of his way and scattering without a backwards glance. The small specific group of men and women guarding the healing chambers quietly left as soon as he stepped into view.

"Is N'Didi there?" he asked one.

"No, Great Gorilla," she replied. "N'Didi left two hours ago."

He nodded and entered the only occupied room. T'Challa was standing by the table, a promising development in his slow recovery. He was staring down at the open pages of the book N'Didi gave him but looked up immediately. His expression was guarded, wary. He reminded M'Baku of a cornered cat, back arched, ready to strike at the slightest agitation. As such, he kept his distance, staying by the doorway until he could diffuse the matter.

"Back so soon, Great Gorilla?" T'Challa said mildly while slowly shutting the book.

The air in the room prickled like the hours before a thunderstorm. Damisa-Sarki just stood there, hand resting on the cover, waiting on M'Baku with calculating eyes. M'Baku decided not to bother with the insults; he wasn't prepared or interested in testing T'Challa. 

"To apologize for not keeping my word," he said. "I did not tell you what I knew about Wakanda last night. That was my mistake."

That caught T'Challa by surprise. He looked elsewhere while searching for a response. "… I was not expecting that."

"I prefer to say what is on my mind instead of suggesting ten meanings with one word," M'Baku replied. "Something I find… irritating about Hanuman."

"Ce'Athauna told me. She mentioned a sanctuary where you can speak with Hanuman." T'Challa looked down at the book. "I thought it was just a story about your first encounters with the white gorillas."

"A story and also a truth," M'Baku said. "Didn't we just discuss this?"

"Communing with a god was not part of it." T'Challa was visibly relaxing, allowing even a crack of a smile on his face. "How do you talk to him? What does he say?"

How should M'Baku say it? The Jabari had never told any outsider about some of their most closely guarded secrets because they never let anyone get close enough. Yet here was T'Challa, an outsider and a dethroned king. Here he was asking questions about a tribe neither he nor his father ever showed interest in until M'Baku came down from the mountains to challenge him. 

_Why did you challenge T'Challa?_

M'Baku sat down at the table. He waited but when T'Challa didn't sit down as well, he started talking. "We do not chew on plants," he said and T'Challa rolled his eyes. "We use all parts of the Jabari tree, including its sap. When dried and burned, it allows us an encounter with Hanuman."

"Does everyone do this? Do they talk to Hanuman in their homes, or do you have sacred places specifically for it?"

M'Baku shrugged. "Collecting the sap is not an easy task. You need years of training and the right tools to do so without harming the trees. And it is… accepted that we commune with Hanuman in the sanctuary. It is as the story describes it—an underground lake with a dead tree."

"Do only certain people commune with him or can anyone do it?"

"You are like a child. So many questions," M'Baku couldn't help saying. "One understands that they need reason to ask Hanuman about anything. Most resolve their matters without his help. But sometimes, we need his guidance. Or riddles, if Hanuman felt like it."

"Not exactly a trickster, but a fickle god," T'Challa said as he finally sat down across the table from M'Baku. "That is very different from how we commune with Bast. There are ceremonies, celebrations, and rites both public and private, but only the Black Panther sees her."

"How, in the Djalia? I thought that was where you went to meet the previous panthers," M'Baku said.

T'Challa smiled tightly, his eyes distant with a harsh memory. "And how do you think it happens? They are my predecessors, my ancestors, but they are also Bast. It is… complicated."

M'Baku snorted and sat back. "When the gods are involved, most things are." 

He considered the man across the table. T'Challa was nodding sagely, his smile now more of a grimace because he felt every word M'Baku spoke. It was disconcerting how glad M'Baku was that T'Challa understood him. But who else would know his burdens, his struggles, his fight for his people's continued survival?

Would T'Challa understand if he spoke about the things Hanuman told him?

"I saw Hanuman twice since you washed up on the riverbank," he said. T'Challa sat up straight at Hanuman's name, alert and eager to learn more. "In the morning, I went up there to ask him why he saved you. Hanuman knew about N'Jadaka. He said you were the only one who could stop him."

T'Challa nodded gravely. "He is not wrong."

"Well, I thought he was. I thought he was wrong about many things. He even suggested that we follow you when you come down from the mountains to face your cousin."

He didn't expect T'Challa to laugh lowly and shake his head. "You wouldn't do that for me."

"No, we will not die for you," M'Baku would say but the words refused to leave his mouth. Instead he sighed loudly and said, "My god vexes me and all you do is laugh. Some king you are."

"But I thought I wasn't king anymore," T'Challa said, still laughing in that low, warm way. It wrapped around M'Baku like his fur cowl and settled in his bones without asking. "I am sorry, I shouldn't laugh."

"No, please, get it all out," M'Baku said dryly, waving at the air. "I can wait."

He found himself watching T'Challa again but with slow curiosity instead of caution. He didn't have time to wonder before T'Challa sobered and leaned forward on the table, serious and attentive, but it was very easy to just look at the panther king. That wasn't the case yesterday, or any of the days since T'Challa was crowned king. His stomach twisted at the thought and he looked elsewhere to settle it.

"Why does Hanuman believe you should help me?" T'Challa asked. "After all these centuries, why change the way things are?"

"Isn't it obvious?" M'Baku replied. "Hanuman considers N'Jadaka a greater threat than vibranium. It is dangerous by itself but in the wrong hands, it could destroy all things. In his hands…."

T'Challa nodded slowly. His hand drifted to his side again. "If not for this, I would have already left to stop him. He… doesn't understand what vibranium means to us. He doesn't understand _Wakanda_ , and I think he knows it."

"So he would rather destroy it," M'Baku said. "What of the Border Tribe? Why would they allow him to do this?"

The panther king looked increasingly troubled. "Because the First Shield was tired of doing nothing. They watch the outside world every day. They witnesses atrocities everyday, which have come closer and closer to our borders. If we continue to do nothing, refugees will eventually make their way into our lands and the violence they flee will follow. That was what the First Shield told me, anyway."

Putting together a picture out of these strange parts wasn't so difficult after all. The Border Tribe had grown weary of Wakanda's reluctance to address the world's problems crowding against it and N'Jadaka gave them a worthwhile solution. Still, how could they overlook the fallout, the consequences of this war N'Jadaka sought?

"They do not see the whole picture," T'Challa said when M'Baku asked. He dragged a hand down his face and sighed heavily. "N'Jadaka had every right to challenge me, but W'Kabi sponsored him because I failed to keep my word. I failed to bring back the man who murdered his parents. N'Jadaka was able to do that and won his loyalty." He suddenly laughed, harshly. "Maybe I should've told him what led to their deaths."

"You have lost me completely," M'Baku said flatly. 

"It is nothing." T'Challa hesitated, stroking his bottom lip with his thumb, and then said, "You remember why my father killed my uncle."

"I do."

"The man he told our secrets to was an arms dealer from South Africa. Ulysses Klaue. He stole cases of vibranium and detonated a bomb to mask his escape. W'Kabi's parents died in the blast."

"And that brought your father to your uncle," M'Baku said slowly. He could see why T'Challa laughed. "Ironic."

"Perhaps that is why Hanuman told you to help me," T'Challa said in a markedly lighter tone. He was even quirking a smile at the thought. "Old adversaries uniting to stop a panther aided by a tribesman whose parents were indirectly killed by the panther's father."

"A preposterous tale, even for me," M'Baku said. "And I never said we would help you."

"I know." T'Challa's smile became stiff. "So, I must begin planning how to stop him."

"By yourself? You are just one man."

"You think I don't know people? You think I don't have friends? You think they all disappeared when I fell?"

"One of them chose your cousin over you." M'Baku leaned forward. "N'Jadaka has your throne and all of your Bast-given powers. You, on the other hand-" And he reached across the table to prod T'Challa's shoulder. "-you are fragile."

"I can handle myself," T'Challa said, shoving his hand away with some effort. "I bested you in combat without my powers, in case you forgot."

"That was just once. Best me again and perhaps I'll believe you."

T'Challa stared at him for a moment too long and then looked elsewhere. "Another day, perhaps."

He must think they'll be crossing paths again once this ordeal with his cousin was over. Despite implications—T'Challa was effectively inviting M'Baku to challenge him for the throne again—it sounded like the opening of a door that didn't exist until six days ago. Feeling uneasy, M'Baku decided not to think too deeply about it. He caught T'Challa trying to stifle a yawn and decided he had spent enough time here. 

"I have matters to attend to," M'Baku said, getting to his feet. "If I hear anything new, you will be the first to know."

"Is that so?" T'Challa asked. He sounded amused yet disbelieving, and M'Baku hated himself for not keeping his word. He hated that T'Challa doubted him.

"Yes, I promise it," he said firmly and left.

* * *

* * *

It started with a whisper. Hushed, furtive, hissed in the dark. Eyes on the lookout for blue cloaks and red armor while lips moved and words were spoken. 

_"Those cases are full of weapons!"_

And naturally, questions followed.

_"Why so many? Are we in danger?"_

_"I heard no such thing! Where are they going?"_

_"I heard they're going to Mount Bashenga."_

_"But why?"_

Wakanda was not a nation at war. That was by design. To protect themselves and their vibranium, they must not engage. They must not draw attention to themselves. So why was the king stockpiling weapons?

_"Wouldn't we have been told by now?"_

_"The Border tribesmen say we are not."_

_"But why are they even_ here _? Did you ever wonder?"_

_"And the Dora Milaje. I see them every other day. Why is the king sending them here?"_

It was difficult saying his name even if it was given by his father, the late prince N'Jobu. It felt wrong, did not roll off the tongue as easily as the previous king's name did. 

_"You know what they say about Americans. He is just like them. Seeking war where there is none."_

_"Is that what he's doing? Doesn't he know we don't start wars?"_

_"What does he know? He's not Wakandan. He will never understand."_

_"But what does it matter? He is king now. He must have his reasons."_

Word traveled. Tampered kimoyo beads filtered questions and suspicions around watchful eyes and ears. Voices grew louder in the cities, in the towns, in the villages.

_"Why did you come here? Tell us the truth. Tell us what you are doing. Tell us why this is the right thing to do. Tell us why you are right for Wakanda."_

In Birnin Zana, King N'Jadaka—Erik Stevens, Killmonger, Black Panther—turned to the First Shield and said, "They keep talking like that, shut them down."

* * *

* * *

* * *

"I wish to speak with M'Baku," T'Challa tells N'Didi while she inspects his wounds. The air smells foul with the bitter brown tea. "Can you tell him?"

"Now you call him by his name," she says while peeling away the gauze hiding the stitched gouge in his side. He twitches when she probes it, searching for unwanted heat or fluids. After a few silent seconds, she presses a clean bandage over it and steps back. "And I can. In fact, I will. There is little more I can do for you here. I will tell him to move you elsewhere."

"Are you in a hurry to be rid of me, umakhulu?" T'Challa asks while adjusting his plain brown clothes. His side twinges but he doesn't acknowledge it. He won't.

"As I said before, it is healing slowly but it _is_ healing. You have been cooped up in here long enough. Now you need sun and fresh air to help you." She raises a hand to her wide wooden bangle but stops to give him a shrewd look. "That does not mean you are ready to leave the mountains, let alone face your usurper in combat. You must stay here until all your wounds heal."

"I make no promises," he says solemnly.

She rolls her eyes before murmuring a quick message into her bangle. He wonders how it works; the Jabari obviously made technological advances independent of vibranium but he can't yet figure out how.

"How does that work?" he asks, nodding to the bangle.

"What, this?" She holds her wrist up so he can see it. To the ignorant or oblivious, it looks like a simple accessory, a polished wide bracelet carved from a beautiful gray wood. He narrows his eyes; there is a square panel on the top, the edges cleverly hidden within the grain, and shallow notches have been carved into it. "This is how we communicate. Among the Jabari wood's many properties is its ability to generate electromagnetic waves at a specific frequency. I'm surprised Wakandans haven't detected it."

"We, ah, we may not have been looking for it," T'Challa says. The trees the Jabari rely on must have mutated from the vibranium under their feet, like the heart-shaped herb and possibly the white gorillas. He wonders if she's aware of the irony, if anyone in this tribe is. "Are you also a researcher or-"

"No, but I am flattered you think that," N'Didi says dryly. "I didn't create this but almost everyone here knows how it works. We are a self-sufficient people. We must know how to repair and improve our tools when necessary. It is how we survive."

"I apologize. It seems there is much I still need to learn about the Jabari."

She considers him. "I hope, Damisa-Sarki, that you succeed in taking back your throne and mantle. Wakanda needs leaders like you."

"Does that mean everyone within the borders or everyone not living in the mountains?" he asks.

N'Didi sighs. "Hanuman knows I mean well. The borders you protect are our borders. Your efforts to protect Wakanda are also efforts to protect us. Every decision, every action you take on behalf of Wakanda is also on behalf of us. It is the truth, even if you cannot see it."

"I see it," T'Challa says softly. "And I will continue to see it. I am not my ancestors. I am myself."

"Good." She points to the tray of food on the table. "I expect an empty cup, empty bowls, and no complaints."

"When have I ever complained, umakhulu?" he asks lightly.

"Don't think you can fool me, panther king. I've seen the look in your eyes," she replies and leaves him to his meal.

He spends the next twenty minutes mulling over his plan for stopping N'Jadaka from declaring war on half the world while eating and reluctantly drinking the bitter tea. On the surface, it looks like a suicide mission and it probably will be but it all hinges on whether or not he makes it to Birnin Zana undetected. If he does, he can announce himself and issue his challenge. Once that happens, he cannot be harmed until he is standing at Warrior Falls, fighting N'Jadaka for the… for… wait.

"I am a fool," he sighs, burying his face in his hands. He can hear Nakia laughing at him for missing the obvious when he of all people should have already figured it out.

There are two endings for ritual combat—surrender or death. Wakanda had gone so long without seeing an actual challenge that nobody remembered what it meant to fight for it. M'Baku's unexpected arrival at Warrior Falls was a shock but T'Challa was not about to shed blood during his coronation. N'Jadaka obviously had no such compunctions when he threw T'Challa over the waterfall to his death.

The problem is, T'Challa is still alive.

_This is why Hanuman saved my life._

He is still processing it when M'Baku enters the chamber. The man looks as though he fought both wind and earth, and barely won; he tracks mud into the chamber and doesn't bother trying to adjust his fur cowl. He sits down heavily at the table and leans on his knobkerrie while looking tiredly at T'Challa's left shoulder.

"I am told you wanted to see me," M'Baku says. 

T'Challa had a different reason in mind when he asked N'Didi but he can't remember it now. He does have something to say about Hanuman's intentions but that also falls by the wayside. He pushes aside his tray of half-eaten food to get a better look at M'Baku.

"Did something happen this morning?" 

"Do not concern yourself with it," M'Baku says while leaning his knobkerrie against the table. He pulls the tray over to his side and starts eating whatever was untouched, much to T'Challa's amused annoyance. "It is a small matter."

"You look as though you waded in a sea of mud," T'Challa says. He squints at M'Baku's shin guards and realizes the gray coloring is from caked dried mud, not Jabari wood. "You are also eating my food."

"You weren't and I'm starving," M'Baku says. He rolls a small ball of fufu between his fingers. "Are you done staring at my legs?"

"I was wondering where you went to be covered all over in mud," T'Challa says, exasperated. He hates how hot his face feels. "Fine. You are obviously unharmed and no one is trying to topple your stronghold, so I'll ignore it. I know why Hanuman saved my life."

M'Baku stops eating to stare at him suspiciously. "Did he tell you himself or…?"

"I realized it earlier," he says, "while planning my return to Wakanda. You know the rules of the challenge."

"Of course," M'Baku says. "I even tried to kill you. I obviously failed."

"You yielded, a better outcome," T'Challa replies. "N'Jadaka is the one who succeeded."

"No, he didn't. You are still alive."

"Yes. I am still _alive_. I never yielded and I never died." He leans forward, looking M'Baku in the eye. "I am still king."

He is not even a little surprised that the first thing M'Baku says is, "The king of what?"

"I won't bother to answer that," T'Challa says while M'Baku laughs and finishes eating his food. "When I return, N'Jadaka will lose his crown. He will be the challenger again, and this time I will be ready."

"He defeated you once," M'Baku says, looking pointedly at his side. "What makes you think you'll win this time?"

"I know what to expect-"

"He was not wounded. He was not thrown over a waterfall. He did not spend days in an underground chamber, unable to move freely while healing from those wounds. He has not grown soft." M'Baku shoves the tray away and sits back in his seat, arms folded. "I do not see you winning this."

T'Challa sighs, shoulders sagging in defeat. M'Baku is right; he is barely fit enough to walk down a steep mountain path, so how is he supposed to fight N'Jadaka again and win? Still, he must try. He has to. "Whether or not I succeed or fail, I must go back."

"I know," M'Baku says. "I just think it a shame that all of N'Didi's hard work will go to waste."

"It won't. I am grateful for what she did." He catches a mildly disgruntled look on the Great Gorilla's face. "I am grateful for what you did as well."

"We owed you a debt," M'Baku says. "It was the least I could do."

"What, risk your lives harboring a deposed king?" T'Challa asks lightly. It was, after all, their biggest point of contention.

"You are still a threat, Damisa-Sarki," M'Baku grumbles, though his eyes are bright with humor. "But… it has not been so bad."

He does not elaborate nor does T'Challa ask him to. They sit quietly, the first time since T'Challa woke up in the land of the Jabari, and it is a comfortable silence. It is comfortable when T'Challa isn't glancing at M'Baku every other second. How perceptions change given time and chance, he thinks. M'Baku was a threat, the first of many that he was meant to face as Wakanda's new king. Now M'Baku is not an adversary but someone T'Challa could call an acquaintance, maybe even a friend.

 _Just an acquaintance?_ a very small and quiet voice asks. _Just a friend?_

When this is over and he returns to the throne, M'Baku will still be the leader of a rival tribe but there won't be centuries of antagonism and isolation between the Jabari and the others. There won't be any friction between the Black Panther and the Great Gorilla. What will there be?

 _What are we?_ he wonders about the man at the other end of this strange, burgeoning relationship. _What are you to me?_

"Something on my face?" M'Baku asks, eyebrow raised, and T'Challa realizes he's been staring openly.

"I thought… but it might be mud," he says quickly. "I don't know how you managed it."

M'Baku rubs his chin and wipes the nonexistent mud away without looking. "What else would you expect from walking through a riverbank? I do have a life outside of these walls."

"I wouldn't know," T'Challa replies. "I haven't been anywhere else."

M'Baku suddenly shakes his head like he remembered something and stands. "Now I remember. N'Didi claims she has done what she could. She _insists_ I move you elsewhere."

"I do miss the sky," T'Challa admits. He can't remember the last time he went this long without seeing a blue sky and a bright sun.

He doesn't know what to think or feel about the sudden grin on M'Baku's face as the man says, "I know the place."

T'Challa gets to his feet and picks up the book while M'Baku turns away to talk into the communication device embedded in his bracer. He looks around the chamber one last time, his heart suddenly light with the thought that he finally recovered enough to leave it. He quietly treads to M'Baku's side and raises an eyebrow when the man turns and jumps.

"You are too much like a panther," M'Baku mutters once he collects himself. "Follow me. If you wander away, you'll be lost and I am not tearing up my halls searching for you."

"Is this how you treat your guests?" T'Challa asks while following him out of the chamber. A fresh damp breeze hits him and his nose twitches. "Who taught you your manners?"

"Gorillas did," M'Baku says while glancing sideways at the armored men and women standing guard or patrolling the long wood-paneled halls of the mountain stronghold. "Do they not teach you jokes in Birnin Zana?"

"Not at the guest's expense, usually," T'Challa replies.

His attention is already wandering away to the walls and bars of light illuminating the stronghold. Whoever designed this place had a great talent for engraving, carving out delicate swirling lines and patterns following the woodgrain, imitating wind blowing through the mountains. These panels are occasionally interrupted by detailed carvings of gorillas in the forest and rivers full of fish, all polished and maintained with great care. "Is this all wood?"

"Jabari wood," M'Baku replies, voice full of pride. "It is everything to us so we prefer to be surrounded by it, just like you and all your vibranium."

"Don't tell me this is also made of wood," T'Challa says, tugging at the collar of his borrowed clothes.

M'Baku looks at him for longer than is comfortable, making him too warm and his heart too agitated. "I can explain the process by which we extract fiber from wood pulp and process it to create thread for weaving, but that is boring and I have better things to do."

T'Challa concedes the point. That is more Shuri's purview, not his. Well, it _was_ hers. Well. He leaves it at that.

They continue walking. He doesn't know for how long but he slowly loses interest in this impressive, massive network of halls and covered bridges; his body aches all over and every sharp breath stabs his side, reminding him of all the cracks in his body that are still healing. He tries to keep up with M'Baku's long strides anyway, not willing to lose face, not willing to admit he is in no condition to leave the mountains. 

He is so focused on watching his own strained steps that he doesn't see M'Baku glancing back at him nor does he notice the other man slowing down. His concentration breaks when he hears a Jabari warrior suddenly and tersely order someone down a different hall while M'Baku throws an arm out, stopping him cold.

"What is it?" he asks.

M'Baku tilts his head to the side, listening for fading footsteps. Once they're gone, he lowers his arm. "It is nothing."

It is not nothing but T'Challa doesn't feel like pressing the issue. He watches M'Baku as they continue down another hall, and then another and another. It seems the Jabari stronghold spans the entire mountainside.

"We are here," M'Baku suddenly announces, coming to a stop in front of a nondescript wooden door that looks like other wooden doors in the short narrow hall. "One of too many empty rooms in this place, but it has the best view and privacy. Just don't fall off."

"What does that mean?" T'Challa asks suspiciously.

M'Baku opens the door, revealing a large room that appears to extend from the mountainside into the air. It gives T'Challa an unobstructed breathtaking view of Jabariland. The room itself is designed as a semicircle with a large low bed covered in furs on the left and a dresser, table, couch, and chairs on the right. All T'Challa sees, though, is that seamless view. He steps into the room, eyes on the distant snowy peaks against the deep blue sky.

"Incredible," he says faintly. 

"They're just mountains," M'Baku says. 

He rolls his eyes and takes another step. There is something strange about this view. He can't see where glass panes meet the floor and ceiling. "Are there no windows? Tell me there's some kind of forcefield to protect the room's occupants."

"A forcefield? That is your technology. No, we enjoy a risky lifestyle up in these mountains."

T'Challa stares at him. M'Baku bursts out laughing. "The look on your face! Of course we have them." He fiddles with his bracer and the view flickers, revealing a semi-transparent wall. "Don't tell me you're afraid of heights."

"No, just concerned about my odds of surviving your jokes."

He rolls his eyes when M'Baku starts laughing again. He looks around the room; it is noticeably warm but he sees no vents. In fact, the floor feels warmer than he expects from a fortress high in the mountains. "How is it so warm?"

"Hot air moves through pipes under the floor and in the walls. Very pleasant during the winter seasons."

"I can imagine that," T'Challa murmurs. He can imagine the Jabari spending years and years building and improving on this massive stronghold, far away from Wakandan eyes and innovations. "Your people know how to survive."

"We do," M'Baku says with no trace of humor. "But life isn't just about surviving, is it?"

"No." And then, before he can stop himself, "Sounds like something Shuri would say."

M'Baku is slow to respond, probably recalling the accusations he threw in her direction a lifetime ago. "I hope your sister is alive so she can tell you herself." Then, "N'Didi will be here in a few hours to see if you pulled a muscle. I suggest using this time to plan your one-man invasion of Wakanda so that you survive it in one piece."

T'Challa arches an eyebrow at his sudden, abrasive tone. "It almost sounds like you don't want me to leave."

"The panther has jokes," M'Baku says. "The quicker you leave my mountains, the better for all of us, which is why you should make your plans very carefully. I am not fishing you out of the river again."

"You? I thought it was a fisherman who stumbled upon me in his nets."

The other man huffs. "I will leave you to your scheming, Damisa-Sarki."

T'Challa frowns. Why is M'Baku suddenly trying to distance himself? He turns around in time to see the door shut, leaving him alone with a breathtaking view and a sudden strange ache in his chest.

* * *

* * *

The day passed in a blur despite M'Baku's best efforts. No one had expected a blockade of mud and uprooted trees between them and the network of caverns connecting Jabariland with the DRC, and he oversaw the deployment of men and equipment to clear out the mess. The network was the Jabari's last line of defense; should something unstoppable come over the mountains, the people were to retreat into the caverns and either wait it out or escape into the neighboring nations. It was the absolute last resort and the Jabari never actually went through with it, but with what's happening in Wakanda, M'Baku and N'Gamo had to be sure the tunnels were ready.

In between coordinating the excavations, M'Baku held more meetings on controlling the increasingly unpredictable and frequent floodings and the establishment of a new farming village. It felt like a return to normalcy, to a time when his concerns were solely about his people's livelihood. 

Everything felt normal but M'Baku didn't. His mind kept drifting back to the spare room that opened up on the river valley and the panther king dwelling in it. He couldn't stop thinking about the way T'Challa stared at him after he admitted to liking spending time around him. Damisa-Sarki looked surprised, then thoughtful, and then curious, all in less than a minute. M'Baku would never admit that it made him nervous, uncertain of what the other man was thinking. 

It embarrassed him. He was the Great Gorilla, unafraid to say what was on his mind, who never hides his words and actions in shadows and deception. It was the Jabari way. But now he struggled with his thoughts about T'Challa , the man who once frustrated him for being just like his father and who now frustrated him for being nothing like King T'Chaka. It occupied his mind and his time, and others were noticing. Bosede was staring at him now, so he rubbed his eyes and pretended to be exhausted by the long, muddy day.

"It was routine," he said in a tone that invited no arguments. "Luck or Hanuman guided them to it."

"Suspicious timing, Great Gorilla, given what transpired in Wakanda," Bosede insisted. "A new king sits on the throne. An outsider with royal blood, they say. What do you know about him?"

"As much as you do," he said. "It has no bearing on the patrol's decision to check on the caverns."

He stared at Bosede until the adviser finally dropped their gaze. "You know as well as I the importance of maintaining those tunnels. Do you have any argument against clearing out the mud?"

Who would look like the bigger fool by arguing about it? Bosede knew they were cornered and admitted as such. "No, I do not."

"Then we are done here," M'Baku announced to the others. "We are not expecting any new rains in the coming weeks so salvaging the fields can wait. If anyone has grievances, inform N'Gamo."

He felt N'Gamo's eyes on him but waited until the last of the other advisers left the throne room. Once they were alone, he sighed and slumped in his seat. "Bosede suspects something."

"I wonder why," N'Gamo said dryly. "Next time I should place a mirror somewhere so you can watch yourself."

M'Baku scowls at him. "What does that mean?"

"What did you think of Chinwe's idea for using disruptors to break down the debris more quickly?"

"He’s the one who tried to stop my father from approving their construction," he muttered. "He actually said that?"

"Yes. Did you not pay attention?" N'Gamo sighed before he could answer. "M'Baku, what is on your mind?"

"Far too many things," he said, frowning at himself for getting caught so easily. "I do not want to discuss this tonight."

"Of course. We can continue tomorrow."

They left the throne room for the dining hall. M'Baku didn't notice N'Gamo watching him with a concerned frown; his head was still clouded with thoughts from earlier in the day.

"M'Baku," N'Gamo said suddenly. Something about his hesitant tone made M'Baku stop in his tracks and turn around to his friend. "There is one matter we still need to discuss. What is being done with the panther king? He is no longer in N'Didi's care, yes?"

"I put him elsewhere at her request," M'Baku said. "She believes he is not yet ready but he intends to leave soon. He plans to challenge N'Jadaka."

"And what about us?"

"We paid our debt. We did as Hanuman asked and T'Challa gave us enough warning to prepare. What else is there?"

"Nothing." N'Gamo looked elsewhere, clearly holding his tongue.

M'Baku was having none of it. "Well? What else is on your mind?"

N'Gamo glanced around the hall before quietly saying, "I have said before that you have not been yourself since King T'Chaka died. Every time you went to ask… T'Challa questions, you returned distracted, preoccupied with thoughts that you did not share. Lately, you spend even more time with him. Is there something I should know?"

He wanted to laugh but that would offend N'Gamo or worse, tell him too much. "You know everything I do, including his plan to retake the throne. It will probably kill him but he is determined to delay N'Jadaka's war."

N'Gamo looked skeptical. "That is all?"

"What else is there?"

He should've known that was the opening N'Gamo was waiting for. "Hanuman's wisdom. Did you not ask Hanuman about our predicament? Did you not ask why he gave us the means to save Damisa-Sarki's life?"

"And did I not say that T'Challa was the only one who could defeat N'Jadaka?" M'Baku was suddenly irritated and his words came out sour. "Perhaps he throws them both down Warrior Falls to their deaths. That would end his cousin's plans to bring war to our mountains."

N'Gamo raised an eyebrow. "That is a bit much."

"Then what do you want to know? What do you want to hear? This isn't like you at all."

His adviser sighed. "You are right. Perhaps Damisa-Sarki has got both of us clouded in the head. That is the real reason why I am speaking about this. You need to watch yourself around him. I will always be grateful that he spared your life that day at the Falls but this is… I don't like this closeness. He may use it against us in the future, if there is one."

M'Baku was suddenly tired of this conversation. "I do not think he is that kind of man, but I will keep your words in mind. I am done with this, N'Gamo. Don't bring it up again."

He turned away before he could get a better look at the conflicted expression on N'Gamo's face. He knew he still said too much and hoped N'Gamo respected him enough to let the matter drop. There was always another day for N'Gamo to start asking those prying questions again and on that day M'Baku will have his answers ready.

Ce'Athauna was waiting for them near one of three large fire pits in the dining hall, staring mournfully at the trays of cooling food and palm wine. She had cleaned up since the last time he saw her, wading thigh-deep in muck while directing men and women around the mudslide. She beckoned to N'Gamo when he made to bid farewell and find seating elsewhere.

"Is it just me," she began while they cleaned their hands in a bowl, "or is it becoming a bit much pretending we're not hiding someone really important?"

"Bosede caught a scent," N'Gamo said, glancing sideways at M'Baku. "Everyone knows about N'Jadaka, then suddenly a patrol discovers a mudslide burying our caverns when nobody's been to the region in months-"

M'Baku banged the floor with his fist. "Not while we eat."

The food was hot and filling and forgettable; he ate without tasting or seeing, and listened passively to Ce'Athauna and N'Gamo bickering over spearfishing and the merits of eating fish. Every now and then he felt his cousin's eyes wander to him. She'll ask him later about his uncharacteristic silence but he was in no mood. Too many worries already weighed on his mind but tonight it was N'Gamo's words that preoccupied his thoughts and held his tongue.

He did not like anything N'Gamo said about his interactions with T'Challa because they were akin to holding up the mirror N'Gamo spoke of. He was right to worry because M'Baku hadn't practiced caution since the night T'Challa told him the truth about Wakanda. That night changed them both, he realized. They were no longer adversaries defending their ways of life like their ancestors did.

They haven't been adversaries in a long time, it felt like, even if it had only been days. How long has it been since T'Challa was pulled out of the river? Had only a week gone by? Was that all it took to change his opinion of the man, of Damisa-Sarki? Was that all it took for him to….

He drank the last of his palm wine.

"-ridiculous. Have I shown you the reports? Saplings are struggling to take hold. Projected losses in the next fifty years means we would be wasting Jabari wood, not making best use of them," N'Gamo said sourly while Ce'Athauna scowled around a mouthful of fufu and soup. "M'Baku, tell your ridiculous cousin we are not using resources in this fashion."

He blinked rapidly and then arched an eyebrow as he tried to process N'Gamo's words. "We are what?"

"Not on that scale! We already have the devices. We just need a way to reliably launch them at the right altitude to interfere with the dragonflyers," Ce'Athauna replied. "Let me talk to N'Namdi-"

M'Baku dragged a face down his too-warm face. "I thought I said we were not discussing this."

"Apologies, M'Baku," N'Gamo said immediately.

Ce'Athauna echoed him but with none of the man's sincerity. She gave M'Baku yet another funny look as they finished eating. They parted ways outside the hall; N'Gamo left for his lodgings without a backwards glance but when M'Baku set off for his rooms, Ce'Athauna followed. Her silent questions burned into the back of his head but she waited until after they were in the bedroom to speak.

"You were far less talkative today, cousin," she began while he shed his fur cowl and bracers and tossed them on his bed. She sprawled out in a carved chair draped in thick fur-trimmed cloth and propped her feet up on their iya-nla's footstool. "Something on your mind?"

"You too?" he scowled. 

"Me?" Her smile was too wide and yet not at all gleeful. "We did talk earlier today. N'Gamo was concerned that you weren't-" She tapped the side of her head. "-all there. Something to do with a panther holed up in our mountains."

M'Baku sighed. "You know what his presence means."

"I think you say that as an excuse," she said blithely. "I'm no fool, cousin. When I left, you were ready to give him a merciful death because he spared your life. I come back and you are smitten. N'Gamo says you're obsessed but I know better."

He stared at her but she didn't blink or back down. He was the one who turned his gaze to the window, watching the stars fill the sky. It was an admission, a confession without words. She knew what it meant.

"Are you seeing him again tonight?" she asked.

"No," he said immediately, defensively. Tonight, he just wanted peace and quiet. He wanted to clear his mind because it was too clouded for any kind of judgment. 

She snorted. "No wonder N'Gamo is so worried. But tell me, when does Damisa-Sarki plan to return to Wakanda?"

"He hasn't said, but it will be soon," M'Baku replied. "He… said that since he never actually died, he is still king. It may change the outcome of his confrontation with N'Jadaka but I doubt it."

"You worry he will die."

"I worry that N'Jadaka will win," M'Baku said flatly. "If he does, he will find out how T'Challa survived. He will come for us. And if not him, it will be one of the countries he attacked."

"You're doing it again." She sighed and tapped on the armrest. "When he leaves, are we following him? Have you decided?"

He laughed and it was a sad sound. He sat on the edge of his bed and clasped his hands together. "I haven't even told N'Gamo."

"Oh, that is no good. You need to tell him. He already suspects too much. Spare him the suspense before he does something outrageous."

"N'Gamo, outrageous? Hanuman is more likely to storm these halls himself."

She laughed and he felt himself relax for the first time today. "That is the M'Baku I've been searching for." She then sobered and sat forward, looking at him seriously. "You must tell him, and then decide what we are doing—no, not we. _You_. He is Damisa-Sarki, panther king, child of Bast. He is king of Wakanda. You know what that means."

"I do," he said.

She rose to her feet. "Good night, cousin."

After she left, he went through his nighttime routine by rote. His mind was elsewhere again, picking over Ce'Athauna's words. N'Gamo may be his closest friend and most trusted adviser, but he wasn't Ce'Athauna, who grew up with M'Baku and easily saw through his posturing. 

"Smitten". What a childish word. Exactly the kind she would use to make M'Baku pay attention. He must've looked the part since N'Gamo kept worrying about his preoccupation with Damisa-Sarki, but it wasn't the right word. It didn't describe what he felt about T'Challa. It was complicated and he needed time to pick the feeling apart. 

With a huff, he went to the observation deck and looked out at Jabariland. Moonlight glinted off the snow-capped peaks and down below in the river valley, the villages glowed golden like the stars. The sight settled his thoughts, his stomach, his heart. It made it easier to think.

What would happen to them after T'Challa became king again? Would they go their separate ways, fall back on old tribal disputes over gods and vibranium? He knew deep down that T'Challa would never let that happen but what about him? This past week was already so strange that M'Baku kept questioning who he was and what he wanted, what he desired. He had wanted the Jabari to be heard, to not be forgotten, to _matter_. He still wanted it now because he understood too well that the Jabari's future was tied to Wakanda's, no matter how he and the others wanted to deny it. 

But both Ce'Athauna and N'Gamo were right about him. T'Challa figured heavily in his thoughts about the future and not just as the Wakandan king. M'Baku wanted a life where T'Challa was an acquaintance, a friend, a companion. The thought was a lump in his throat, a stone in his gut, the reason why his heart was suddenly beating too loudly so late at night.

This was not a question any god could answer, a dilemma any deity could resolve. M'Baku sat at the edge of the deck and looked down at the moonlight glimmering on the winding river. He thought to meditate but already he was wondering if T'Challa also saw Jabariland's quiet beauty from his room. No Wakandan king had ever seen it since before the Jabari retreated to the mountains, but T'Challa was different. He seemed to understand what Wakanda had lost by not reaching out to their mountain tribe, by not trying to bridge the centuries of differences. 

_You started this. And he is willing to continue._

The thought sounded like Hanuman. It sounded like M'Baku. It was hard to tell.

His bracer suddenly thrummed and he went to his bed to answer the call.

"M'Baku," N'Gamo said. "I have word from one of our people in Wakanda. Something is happening there."

* * *

* * *

* * *

T'Challa spends much of the night sitting cross-legged on the observation deck, watching the golden lights down below in Jabariland's river valley and the distant satellites crossing the sky overhead. The stars are closer here, he thinks, and they are beautiful. 

It is so quiet. His ears pick up the faint thrumming of hot air passing through the pipes within the walls and whatever technology the Jabari uses to generate the forcefield between him and the outside. They are nothing like the undercurrent of light and sound in Birnin Zana and elsewhere. It is so peaceful here. 

He wouldn't mind coming back to this every now and then. He wouldn't mind shedding his burdens in this place, disconnecting himself from the demands of the world to just breathe. But that is after he returns to face N'Jadaka. So, he must plan for all possibilities, for all outcomes.

Okoye will be reliable. She protects the throne and therefore the nation, not who sits in it and rules. When she sees him, she'll know that he is still king and she will defend him. The Dora Milaje will follow her. What about the other tribal leaders? The Border Tribe can no longer be trusted due to W'Kabi's actions, but the others? The Mining Tribe has most to gain from N'Jadaka's reign but the River and Merchant Tribes can be convinced to remain neutral.

That leaves N'Jadaka, and T'Challa knows his cousin won't care for the traditions, the old rules governing the challenge. He may refuse to give up his powers and if he does, it will be over no matter what anybody tries to do. T'Challa thinks about making his way to Mount Bashenga and sneaking into Shuri's lab to retrieve his vibranium suit. That will be time lost, time he can't afford to lose when he already lost so much in recovery.

He looks up at the stars. _Bast, I beg of you. Show me a sign. Show me a way to stop N'Jadaka before he destroys us all._

Tomorrow will be a different day, he tells himself. He slowly climbs to his feet and goes to bed. Like most things in the stronghold, it is carved from Jabari wood and covered in thick blankets. It is low and wide and looks nothing like his bed back home, but it certainly looks more welcoming than the stone he spent too many days on.

He still hesitates before getting in. He glances at the door but something tells him he won't have visitors tonight. Perhaps that is for the best. He climbs into bed and stares at the ceiling until it is suddenly morning and he bolts upright at the soundless laughter in the back of his mind. His side twinges painfully and he hisses while pressing his hand to it.

He shouldn't have moved so abruptly. He carefully peels back the gauze and his heart drops at the deep pink stains in it. How is he ever getting down from these mountains if his body keeps threatening to fail him?

Breakfast comes by way of N'Didi and one of her trusted associates. The young man barely gives him the time of day while setting the tray down on the table and then stations himself outside the door. N'Didi pours bitter tea from a steaming pot and then orders T'Challa's clothes removed to inspect his condition. He watches her peel back the gauze to examine the stitched gouge and a gaping pit opens in his stomach at the frown on her face.

"What is it, umakhulu?" he asks. "I must know."

"How did you wake this morning?" she asks while carefully changing the bandages. She pauses when he flinches from her cool hands. "Tell me the truth."

"I did not sleep well," he says. "Did I pull something?"

Instead of answering immediately, she turns and hands him the steaming cup. "Drink this first."

He takes it but doesn't drink. "I must know. If there are complications, I blame no one but my usurper."

"First, the tea. It will soothe your aches and prevent fever."

He takes a single sip. "Tell me the truth."

"The truth, Damisa-Sarki, is that you are not healing as you should," she says. "I have started wondering if you were healing at all. The herb Hanuman gave us mended your bones and organs and replenished your blood, but it seems the glue is becoming… undone."

He does not sit. His hands curl tightly around the hot cup but he dares not react. His heart pounds too loudly in his chest and in his head. So he is wrong. Hanuman did not save him knowing he was still king. "I see. Is there any other way?"

"It is hard to say. I fear that without the heart-shaped herb, you will be in poor health for a very long time. I would dissuade you from leaving the mountains but I have little say when the future of Wakanda and the Jabari are at stake."

"Such is my fate," he says with a grim smile. He takes another sip and his tongue curls at the taste. 

"Such is the fate of kings," she sighs. "At least make an effort to rest and feed yourself. Listen to your body when it tires. Do not push it beyond its bounds. That is the only way you will make it to your golden city alive."

"I will do my best," he says solemnly. "Thank you."

After she leaves, he tries to eat but food tastes heavy and ashen in his mouth. Eventually, he gives up and leaves it to go to the observation deck. He inches as close to the forcefield as he can and stares down at the valley. It is vibrantly green and nearly shrouds the glimmering river that had carried him away from Warrior Falls days ago. He also notices thick streams of brown plowing through the green here and there. Mudslides. That would explain M'Baku's state yesterday. He lifts his gaze to the clear blue sky and the pristine white peaks making up the southern border of Wakanda. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine how they might look after the other countries unite to invade N'Jadaka's Wakanda. He opens them quickly and continues watching Jabariland, even as he starts tiring and the twinge in his side crawls down his body.

That is how M'Baku finds him. T'Challa turns when the door opens, breaking him out of his trance, and he sways as his left side buckles. M'Baku is at his side in an instance, helping him to the bed and easing him onto it. T'Challa bows his head, breathing harshly, and waits for the world to stop swaying.

"She told me your body is starting to fail," M'Baku says quietly for such a loud man. "You may never be able to leave these mountains."

He won't accept it. "Then I must go before it does."

"How? You will fall by the road and vultures will come to pick out your eyes. Hyenas will scream for days as they gnaw on the bones of a Wakandan king. Is that what you want?"

"If I make it to Birnin Zana, the doctors will help me recover before I face N'Jadaka in combat."

" _If_ , you foolish panther," M'Baku scowls. "You are so willing to die on the off-chance you can defeat him when you cannot even _stand_!"

The outburst startles him but he can't muster the energy to defend his decision. He takes comfort instead in what M'Baku isn't saying, the concern that the man is showing through anger. "If I do not do this, we will all be in danger. Why else did Hanuman save my life? Why else am I still alive?"

"Why else indeed," M'Baku says. He turns away to stare at the mountains and exhales loudly. "Ce'Athauna will accompany you. She knows how to get you back to Birnin Zana quickly and quietly."

T'Challa nods tiredly. His whole body aches deep in his bones and he just wants to lie down. The pain in his side is fading and he wonders what N'Didi put in the tea. "It seems I will be useless to you for the next several hours… unless you are here for another reason?"

M'Baku presses his mouth tightly, considering his next words, and then says, "I will come back later and tell you."

It must be about Wakanda. His heart skips a beat and he sits up straight, adrenaline bursting through the drowsy fog in his mind. "If you have news from Wakanda, I must know."

"It is not dire, so I will come back later," M'Baku replies. "I said I will tell you if I hear anything and I will. But not when you're like this. Rest, T'Challa."

He leaves the room without a backwards glance, shutting T'Challa in with a foggy storm in his head. He lies down as the ceiling spins, wondering what happened in Wakanda that caught the Jabari's attention and brought M'Baku to him.

He wonders about nothing else.

* * *

The sky is late afternoon blue when M'Baku returns. T'Challa is walking around the room, pacing himself, seeing how long he can stay on his feet. The door opens in the middle of his twelfth lap and M'Baku steps in. He raises an eyebrow at the sight.

"You seem well."

"Thanks to whatever N'Didi put in the morning tea," T'Challa says. "It's not a cure but it is better than nothing."

He wipes his face and neck clean with a wet cloth and sits down at the foot of the bed. He twists it around his hands and looks up at M'Baku. "What happened in Wakanda?"

"Strange things," M'Baku says slowly. He side-steps towards the couch, which is more an intricately carved wooden bench with padded cushions on top. He sits down as well and considers the tray of unfinished food before him. "Someone in your golden city has been spilling secrets. People know what N'Jadaka is doing and they are unhappy."

Given what Agent Ross told T'Challa about N'Jadaka's past as a black-ops soldier, he can see his cousin keeping his plans close to his chest. Surprise is his strongest asset and now someone has exposed him to a people who don't seek out war. 

"Wakanda does not start wars," he says. "Of course they are not happy."

"There were protests yesterday. They began during the day and went deep into the night. People were demanding answers. They wanted to know the truth about the weapons N'Jadaka had been stockpiling, about the dragonflyers crossing the border almost daily, about your cousin's vision of Wakanda's future."

It sounds… almost exactly like something Nakia would do. His heart thumps once and he suddenly feels light; is she alive? Is she out there, fomenting rebellion among the people to stop N'Jadaka?

"What else?" he asks.

"The First Shield sent Border tribesmen to disperse them." M'Baku pauses. "I was told they became physical. No deaths, but many injuries. Dragonflyers have not taken off from your armories since."

He drags a hand over his face. This delay is a small blessing but at the expense of his people? If the protests escalate, and he knows they will, N'Jadaka will resort to violence to silence them. Okoye and the Dora will surely step in then but is that the cost of saving Wakanda? He can't accept that.

"That is time enough for me to return to Wakanda," he says distantly. He can't wait on his body any longer.

He scowls at M'Baku's disbelieving snort. M'Baku swallows a bite of akara and says, "Important as it is, I am sick and tired of discussing these plans of yours. Instead, we will go for a walk and you can clear your head."

"You are trying to distract me," T'Challa accuses. "I don't have time for that."

"Can't even spare an hour? I have my own reasons, of course. You are the first Wakandan king to stand on these mountains. So, you should be the first of them to see Jabariland for what it truly is. You should see whose future you also carry when you go back."

"Is that why you put me here?" T'Challa nods to the observation deck. "I saw the lights along the river last night. They must be your fishing villages. Are there ones that look after the trees where you harvest your Jabari wood?"

"Sharp eyes, Damisa-Sarki. I should show you Hanuman's gift"

"I doubt I will survive the walk," T'Challa points out. Just thinking about the hike down into the valley tires him.

"I agree. There are places in the mountains where we grow gardens and groves. We will go there."

"Here? Even with all the snow?"

M'Baku rolls his eyes. "Exactly why I am doing this." He cleans his hands and gets to his feet. "If you tire, say so and we will come back. Pretending otherwise will help no one."

"You really have nothing better to do than to entertain me?" T'Challa asks, amused despite worrying what could happen if he stops thinking about Wakanda for a few minutes, let alone an hour.

M'Baku shrugs. "I delegated. If I am needed, N'Gamo will tell me."

They step out into the hall. There is just one other person in it, a Jabari warrior, and she salutes M'Baku before looking the other way. Satisfied, he immediately makes a right turn into another corridor and T'Challa follows suit.

"Tell me about this N'Gamo," he says because this is not the first time he heard the name. "I recall you saying he considers me foolish."

"An adviser and a friend whose counsel I value highly," M'Baku says while leading them through a hallway decorated with carved wooden panels. They illustrate one of the Mandla stories and include a panther of exaggerated size and features. "He does not trust you."

"He never met me."

M'Baku snorts. "He'll say he knows your kind well enough and that your word cannot be trusted. You'll say one thing and mean differently."

T'Challa scowls. "How does he already have an opinion of me?"

"You are Wakandan. That has always been the explanation."

"He is quick to judge."

M'Baku shrugs. "We had centuries."

He'll concede the point. "He is not the only one? Others share his opinion?"

"More or less. If you are lucky, if Hanuman and Bast guide you to victory, you'll have much work to do to change their minds."

They are deep in the mountains now. The polished wooden panels give way to roughly hewn walls illuminated with narrow bars of light. The air smells damp and earthy, and T'Challa's nose twitches several times. He rubs it and asks, "Where are we going? Is this like your sanctuary?"

"You could say that. It is a grove of trees, fed with snowmelt and rain. We harvest them to develop our technology." M'Baku taps his bracer and then frowns at T'Challa. "Are you already tired?"

"Not yet." There is a slight ache in his side but curiosity keeps him moving. "I would like to see these trees."

He swears M'Baku smiles, a small pleased one, before glancing down at his bracer to read whatever shimmered briefly over the polished surface. "We are nearly there."

The air takes on a grassy scent and bioluminescent light globes replace the bars of light. They glow soft and blue, and remind him of the Djalia. The hard ground becomes rich earth and afternoon sunlight streams in from above as the corridor opens up to a great cavern that had collapsed long ago. Moss and green grass carpet the sides and around the roots of tall gray trees. T'Challa looks up at the green and gold canopy and swears the trees are humming. _Vibranium_ , he thinks. _Vibranium has mutated them. Shuri would love this._

"So these are the trees you speak of," he says softly, full of wonder. "They are the source of your technology. Extraordinary."

"And kinder to the world than vibranium," M'Baku readily replies. "When treated, a Jabari weapon can hold its own against one made of vibranium. We tested it."

The Jabari lived off a sister technology in all those centuries of isolation. It is incredible and a little heart-breaking when T'Challa thinks about lost potential and possibilities. "How did we go for so long without knowing?"

"We prefer it that way," M'Baku says. He leaves the path to walk up to a tree and presses his hand against the silvery bark. "The less people know about these, the better."

T'Challa follows him and looks up at the tree, at the odd way the bark shimmers in the light. "You thought we would take advantage?"

"It wasn't because you live and breathe vibranium," M'Baku says. "It was the people you hide your vibranium from, people like this Klaue you mentioned. Secrecy is the price you pay and look where it led you. Why would we want to invite the same trouble by building such outrageous things?"

T'Challa rolls his eyes. "I am not answering that."

"Probably for the best," M'Baku agrees. He gestures at the trees around them. "Hanuman's gift, my people's greatest treasure. They are how we built this stronghold and all the villages down in the valley. They are the source of our tools, our clothes, our technology. They are our livelihood, the reason why we could live apart and thrive for centuries." 

He then fixes T'Challa with a look, an unreadable gaze. "Times are changing, Damisa-Sarki. You are the first Wakandan king to visit these lands. You have seen who we are. What happens once you take back Wakanda? What will become of us?"

M'Baku speaks as the Great Gorilla for the first time in days and so T'Challa answers as the Black Panther. "What do you want to happen, Great Gorilla?"

His heart quickens when M'Baku hesitates because the man never hesitates.

"I do not want us to be forgotten," M'Baku replies. He picks his words with care and with each word he steps forward. He intends to impress them on T'Challa, make sure that the panther king hears him. "It was why I challenged you that day. For too long, you turned a blind eye to us, the Jabari. I wanted you to listen."

"I did and I am," T'Challa says. "And I will continue to listen. I am not my father and I am not my ancestors. I am myself."

M'Baku considers his words and then his gaze softens. He huffs and shakes his head. "I was told by two different people to watch myself around you. Something about you clouding my judgment. They are right."

T'Challa swallows hard as he remembers what Ce'Athauna told him two days ago. His mouth is dry and his heart beats too fast and he can't untangle his thoughts. Days and nights of confrontation and conversation converge in his head.

_What are we? What are you to me?_

He sees the same questions in M'Baku's eyes, the same conflict. The words tumble out. "You were not just asking about your people."

M'Baku doesn't answer immediately. He closes his eyes as if to collect himself and when he speaks, he sounds like he's confessing something. "No, I was not. What will become of us, T'Challa?"

It is a question with hard answers. If T'Challa dies either before he reaches Birnin Zana or at N'Jadaka's hands, none of this will matter. If he lives, if he dethrones his cousin and reclaims his country and people, he will truly become Damisa-Sarki again. Panther king. Child of Bast. Black Panther. King of Wakanda. They could become strangers again and the week he spent here, hiding and healing, will recede into memory.

That is why M'Baku asked him to remember.

"What do you want to happen?" he says again and this time his voice is softer, hushed because he is no longer speaking as a king but as himself.

M'Baku reaches forward but his hand does not touch, hesitating to bridge the gap. T'Challa still feels its weight against the side of his face, its warmth. "I am still deciding. But I know I don't want to lose this. I have spent too much time with you to give this up just because of who we are."

"It will not be easy," T'Challa murmurs. He leans into M'Baku's hand, a quiet invitation. His heart lurches at the touch; he had forgotten how it feels. "There is so much work to be done. And none of it will matter if I die."

"I will accept that risk." A bold, stubborn statement but his calloused hand is almost too gentle as he cups T'Challa's face and draws him close. "We don't shy away from it."

He kisses T'Challa. It is brief and hot and scratchy and steals T'Challa's breath away. He is numb and warm all over, frozen in place and ready to implode. He swallows and tries to speak but words fail him.

M'Baku's eyes are bright with laughter. "I've made you speechless. That is useful."

"I… you…." He bites his lip and tries again. "You just caught me by surprise. Don’t expect it to happen again."

"Oh?" 

And M'Baku kisses him again. Like his touch, his mouth is much kinder than he speaks and acts, and T'Challa melts into the kisses with a quiet sigh. The world slows and the worries, the burdens on his shoulders and around his neck fall away for a few blissful seconds.

They are both quiet afterwards. M'Baku's eyes are closed like he's gathering his thoughts, and so T'Challa takes his time just watching, observing. Afternoon sunlight streams in from above, crowning the mountain grove around them in rich gold. It is a breathtaking sight, and so is the man in front of him, head and shoulders aglow in the halo. T'Challa is suddenly reminded of Nakia and the way light always illuminated her. 

Funny how certain stubborn people draw him in. 

"What are you thinking about?" M'Baku suddenly asks. He's watching T'Challa with curious amusement and his thumb won't stop dragging lightly over T'Challa's stubbled jaw. It is strangely hypnotizing. "I hope it's not about Wakanda."

"I _am_ her king," T'Challa says. He raises an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're jealous."

"I might be," M'Baku says blithely. "I make time to bring you to this mountain grove and I kiss you senseless, and your first thoughts aren't about me. I am wounded."

"You are ridiculous," he replies with a small smile. He sways, suddenly weary. "I would like to go back now."

M'Baku nods and takes them back onto the winding pathway into the stronghold. They don't speak and T'Challa is glad for it because his mind is spinning again and fatigue is settling into his bones. His steps slow and M'Baku reaches out to push him along with a hand on the small of his back. It is a small gesture and he is grateful for it.

The room glows with the deep reds and oranges of a setting sun and the view of the mountains is even more sublime. T'Challa stops just inside the door to take it in. He never tires of seeing sunsets but this vantage point is just extraordinary. 

"I will miss this," he sighs.

He starts when M'Baku says, "You can always come back."

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" T'Challa asks, though his heart beats like a drum. He looks over his shoulder at the shut door and then at M'Baku. "Nobody requires the Great Gorilla's presence?"

"No one has called for me yet," M'Baku says. "I have a little time."

He eyes M'Baku's bracers. "You didn't disable them, did you?"

"That would be the irresponsible thing to do," M'Baku says flatly. "You are leaving soon to maybe die at your cousin's hand. I will take what time I have—unless you wish to be left alone."

He doesn't. "No. Stay, please."

Minutes and seconds tick down in his head and it is suddenly hard to breathe. M'Baku is right; he doesn't have much time left and he can't bear the thought of spending it alone. He steps forward and then again until he's toe to toe with the other man. M'Baku is only a little taller than him and it doesn't take much effort to lean up and kiss him. His lips are soft and his beard is scratchy and he laughs a little against T'Challa's mouth, a low deep chuckle that vibrates in T'Challa's bones.

"I thought you were tired," he says.

"I am." T'Challa steadies himself with a hand on M'Baku's arm and another on his broad chest while pressing another kiss. He bites M'Baku's lip and watches his gaze darken. "Are you complaining?"

M'Baku returns the kiss fiercely and pushes T'Challa up against the wall. He says, hotly against T'Challa's mouth, " _Never_."

They don't have enough time. T'Challa kisses him deeply, uncaring of the beard burn or the awkward clacking of teeth in his quest to taste and claim every inch of M'Baku's mouth, and M'Baku laughs about it, a deep low rumbling in the back of his throat that T'Challa feels in his toes. M'Baku's hands are all over him, careful of his bandaged side but not so careful when they find other scars under his clothes. T'Challa shivers at the touches, the near-reverent tracing of scars marking his fall. He remembers their first encounter at Warrior Falls, the frenzy of battle and the stench of sweat and blood under damp river water, and he wonders at the circumstances that led them here.

"I can hear you thinking," M'Baku murmurs into his ear. He lowers his head to nip at sensitive skin above T'Challa's rapid pulse and has the gall to laugh when T'Challa flinches and makes an undignified high-pitched sound. "Now that is interesting."

"M'Baku," he warns or asks, he can't tell. He can't tell many things anymore.

He thinks fleetingly of another lifetime and another voice musing about it, and then M'Baku sets his teeth over the pulse point and the memory scatters. He rocks against the other man with a hitched gasp, aching with need, and M'Baku responds with a bruising kiss and hands sliding down his side to hitch him up against the wall. T'Challa isn't used to his partner being stronger than him and the thought burns under his skin. He curls around M'Baku, dragging him close until there's no space between them, kissing him until they're breathless and desperate.

Something vibrates and the top panel on M'Baku's bracer lights up. They stare at it and then M'Baku sighs. He reluctantly disentangles himself from T'Challa and turns away to answer the call with a deep frown. T'Challa leans against the wall, breathless and heart strumming. Duty calls, but for once he wishes it didn't. For once, he wishes the world waited.

He can't hear the conversation but whatever it is can't be good because M'Baku's frown deepens and his brow furrows as he listens to the person at the other end of the line. Several terse hushed words later, M'Baku ends the call and turns to T'Challa; he looks troubled and won't meet his questioning gaze.

"What is it?" T'Challa asks when M'Baku continues to hesitate. "Why were you called? Is it about Wakanda?"

M'Baku looks down at his bracer again and comes to a conclusion. "I'm not sure. Do not leave this room."

"Where would I go?" T'Challa asks but M'Baku is already gone.

* * *

* * *

As a war dog, one of the Hatut Zeraze, you know more about the Mountain Tribe than your fellow Wakandans do. You know why they never needed or wanted vibranium, and why they survived in the southern mountains for so long. You know how they came to Warrior Falls unnoticed and had planned to tell T'Challa about the old underground tunnels later. When you had time you no longer have. 

You pretend not to watch the patrolmen communicating tersely through the communicators embedded in their wooden bracers but Shuri is openly watching. Of course she notices these things even more quickly than you did.

"I thought they didn't use vibranium," she hisses. "That has to be vibranium."

"It's the Jabari wood," you say lowly. "Their technology is based on it."

It takes her even less time to put the two and two together.

"You're telling me they extracted vibranium-enhanced fibers from the trees to create their processors and circuits?" she asks. "Why did we never find their frequency? And who's telling them that they're actually using-"

You elbow her and shake your head because one of the warriors is looking at her. And at the queen mother. And at Agent Ross. They look at you last.

"The Great Gorilla grants you permission to enter our lands," the Jabari warrior says. "Come with us. Do not try anything."

"What exactly do you think we're trying-"

The queen mother shushes Shuri, who sighs and falls in step with her and ahead of Agent Ross. You follow a half-step behind, watching them and the warriors surrounding you. Despite their warning and intentionally intimidating presence, they don't act as though you and the royal family are a threat. Only Agent Ross receives suspicious looks but that is to be expected. You hope M'Baku doesn't imprison him immediately upon seeing him.

Late afternoon is slipping away rapidly and the brisk mountain wind becomes frosty. You pull your blanket tightly around your shoulders while Shuri and the queen mother huddle together. Agent Ross looks miserable. You feel miserable; it took nearly four days to reach Jabariland and you're aching, tired, and cold.

The Jabari stronghold looms into view. It is a great network of wooden structures built into the mountainside and connected by a series of bridges. Here and there you see motifs of the ape god, including a massive sculpture of Hanuman looking out at the river valley below. You catch a glimpse of the river winding through a wooded region and the village lights glowing in the deepening shadows.

Warmth flows out of the open doors and you hear the queen mother sigh as you escape the cold. Snow melts away from your feet and feeling returns to your hands as you follow the warriors down a wide dark hall to a pair of carved wooden doors. The woman standing in front of it bears a strong likeness to M'Baku and a patrolman saluting her before speaking confirms she is family. She listens to what the patrolman has to say and then steps forward. 

"You come here seeking an audience with the Great Gorilla," she says. "Why is that?"

"Our business is with him," you say. You will not explain the heart-shaped herb the queen mother keeps hidden away while half the stronghold is listening. "We will speak directly with him and nobody else."

The warriors surrounding you huff in annoyance but the woman raises a hand, silencing them.

"He is on his way." She cocks her head while looking at each of your faces. Shuri shifts uneasily next to you. "The royal family lives, and you bring an outsider with you. I thought Wakanda didn't allow them. What made him so special?"

You resist glancing sideways at the man in question. The Jabari can't know that Agent Ross isn't just an outsider, but also a foreign _agent_. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him trying to make himself small and unassuming. He succeeds when the Jabari woman loses interest and turns away to activate her communicator.

"So do they have Internet?" Shuri whispers. "Do they know what it is?" She turns this way and that, studying the men and women surrounding you. "I don't see any security-"

" _Enough_ ," her mother says because people are watching and listening.

She falls silent but she can't stay still. She keeps rocking back and forth on her feet, and her nervous energy is contagious. You feel the queen mother furtively patting the woven bag hidden under her blanket, making sure it is still there. Agent Ross keeps clearing his throat and ducking his head whenever someone looks in his direction. You stare at the woman in front of you, reading her expressions to inform your next actions. She notices and arches an eyebrow. You wonder if she is like you, trained to read others while giving nothing away.

"Are you sure this will work?" the queen mother whispers doubtfully after a full five minutes pass.

It must work or else all hope is lost. "We have to wait," you say. "It's up to him now."

You search the faces of the men and women guarding the Great Gorilla's hall. They don't speak but some are watching you curiously. Some are staring at Shuri and the queen mother. They are nervous about something.

The Jabari woman glances at her bracer and then says, "Explain why you are here. Don't waste his time."

The doors open and you enter the throne room. It is sparsely decorated and imposing. Branches of Jabari wood hang from the ceiling and direct your eyes to the man sitting at the other end of the room, flanked by two warriors while the moon rises behind him. 

You remember M'Baku from the confrontation at Warrior Falls two weeks ago, bare-chested and marked in white chalk. Now he sits imperiously on his throne, donning fur over polished wooden armor, and his hand grips a finely made knobkerrie. He watches you with cold eyes and you hold your breath when he looks at Agent Ross. Then his gaze turns to Shuri and the queen mother and you see something else. 

Relief.

Something is off here. You can feel it.

"Why have you come here?" he asks, and the levees break as the queen mother declares T'Challa's death at N'Jadaka's hand.

It is while he mocks Agent Ross that you realize he's fooling with you all. You're not surprised that he knows what happened in Wakanda but he's not asking the right questions. It doesn't bother him that the royal family is standing in his hall or that an American is within Wakanda's borders. He doesn't even ask why.

"M'Baku," you say loudly. All eyes turn to you but you don't blink, you don't flinch. "It is true that an outsider won the throne fair and square, but he is a danger to Wakanda. You should fear him, too."

"You came all this way just to tell me that?" M'Baku asks. He sounds _bored_. 

"No," and you gesture to the queen mother. "We came to you because of this."

She reluctantly surrenders the small woven bag. You go down on one knee while holding up the bag to show him the withering purple herb in its bed of soil. You never break eye contact and he never blinks. The room is so quiet you can hear the wind howling outside. Slowly, the queen mother kneels with you and Shuri follows suit.

"There is hope, cousin," the Jabari woman suddenly says, stepping sideways into view and giving M'Baku a strange, meaningful look.

You try to read his face. He is shocked, which is no surprise, but he is also relieved. Why? You glance at his cousin and she wears the same expression. What is going on? What didn't you factor in when coming up with your plan?

"I need someone who can stop N'Jadaka," you say carefully, enunciating each word. "Someone who also has an army."

And then he closes his eyes and sighs. "Which is why you came here."

"Yes."

You wait. Nobody else speaks. You think you hear the queen mother's heart racing like yours is. Then M'Baku rises to his feet and gestures to you. "Come with me."

What? You look down at the herb in your hands. Is he rejecting it? Didn't he fight T'Challa for it days ago? You glance at the queen mother and Shuri, who share puzzled frowns with you, before following the Great Gorilla into the mountain stronghold. Agent Ross has to be prodded along by M'Baku's cousin; he can't stop gawking at the wooden panels along the walls and the awe-striking view of the mountains and the river valley down below. Moonlight glints off the great carved ape standing guard over the heart of Jabariland. You wish you can stop for just a moment to take it all in, to soak in the sights, but M'Baku is in a hurry. He doesn't speak nor does he say where you are going. You clutch the woven bag tightly, shielding it, wondering why he didn't claim it when he had every right to.

A Jabari warrior stands in front of a door in a small lonely hall. He looks at M'Baku, then at you and Shuri and the queen mother, and then quickly steps back with a salute. M'Baku goes to open the door but hesitates and instead looks at the plant in your hands. Now you see the longing in his eyes. For the herb? Or something else?

"Why are we here?" you ask.

"You will see," he says shortly, cryptically, while tearing his eyes away from the heart-shaped herb and opening the door like it weighs two tons.

There is a bedroom with an observation deck looking out at Jabariland. There is a bed, a table, a couch, and chairs. There is someone sitting on the bed, looking at the moonlit mountains. Your heart drops. You know that silhouette anywhere. So does Shuri. She pushes past you into the room with a cry.

"Brother!" she sobs as T'Challa catches her and holds her tight.

The queen mother is there in seconds, holding both of her children in trembling arms, crying and murmuring her thanks to Bast. Agent Ross turns away, not wanting to intrude. You are still standing at the doorway, your hands trembling. You cannot move. You cannot breathe. 

"How…?" you whisper.

"A fisherman found him in the river eight days ago," M'Baku says in such a soft voice and your heart twinges. You know that tone. "He was near death, and Hanuman gave him a second chance."

Now everything makes sense. Now you know why M'Baku's cousin said what she said, why M'Baku did not take the queen mother's outburst about T'Challa seriously, why he was relieved to see the heart-shaped herb.

"You couldn't have said something?" you ask. "When you knew what was happening in Wakanda?"

M'Baku shrugs. "I had to know why you decided to come here." He exhales like he'd been holding his breath for days. "Hanuman knew you were coming. White gorillas left behind an herb we had never seen before. It saved his life, but only just. His body was beginning to fail when you came."

Scars gleam on T'Challa's arms and he holds himself carefully while talking quietly with Shuri and their mother from the side of the bed. The lights in the room are dim but you see lines of exhaustion on his face and his skin is dull, lifeless. You look down at the purple petals within the herb; you arrived in the nick of time.

"I will send for food and water. If you need anything, Ce'Athauna will be outside," M'Baku says, nodding to his cousin.

The Great Gorilla's eyes linger on the royal family while he waits for you and Agent Ross to step inside the room. The door closes behind you and the sound alerts T'Challa. He looks expectantly at it and then at you. Shuri and the queen mother step back as he gets to his feet, and Agent Ross retreats to the couch, leaving you alone to cross the room to him. Your heart is in your throat, beating painfully as the weight of the past week sinks on your tired shoulders. T'Challa meets you halfway and pulls you into his arms, and you want to cry in relief.

He is _alive_.

"Nakia," he whispers. His voice is rough with tears. "Thank you."

You don't speak. Words won't do justice. He holds you close but you feel him tiring; his arms tremble and he starts leaning on you, and you remember what M'Baku said. 

"Come, sit," you say and he lets you push him to the bed. 

He sits down with a sigh and sagging shoulders. His mother sits next to him, turning his face to her to look him over. 

"You are not well," she says. "Why didn't they do more to help you?"

"They did what they could," T'Challa says. "I am lucky to even be alive."

Shuri looks at the plant in your hands. "The herb can do the rest."

He looks at it, too, and smiles while reaching over to caress a wilting petal. "How did you manage? How did you escape Birnin Zana?"

"Everyone was focused on Necropolis. It was easy to get your mother, Shuri, and Agent Ross out of the city. I also had a plan," and you recall Okoye's bitter words, her accusations. You hesitate. "Okoye could not help, but I trusted her to protect Wakanda while I carried it out."

He nods in understanding.

"N'Jadaka is supported by the Border Tribe," you say, "so I needed someone with their own army. M'Baku was that person. I stole an herb from the garden and brought us here."

"You could have taken it yourself," T'Challa says, just like his mother.

You sigh. "Then how was I to convince M'Baku? I needed something to compel him to help. The herb was it." You look down at the plant. "T'Challa, this is the last herb. N'Jadaka burned the Necropolis gardens."

He goes still. His hand is still holding the tip of the shriveling leaf. You see conflict in his eyes, horror and a deep sadness vying for prominence. He sighs and closes them while his shoulders slump forward. "Then we must do the ritual tonight. The herb is dying and I need Bast's blessing to survive."

"And then what?" Shuri asks.

"I challenge him. Everything will stop until we complete the challenge. I do not intend to lose."

"You know he won't follow the rules," the queen mother says. "And W'Kabi supports him. It is why Nakia came here."

T'Challa looks regretful. "M'Baku won't risk his people's lives for Wakanda. Not when we ignored the Jabari for centuries."

"He knows what N'Jadaka is doing?" you ask. You understand him sending his own spies into Wakanda, but how did they manage to find that information? "He knows about the dragonflyers shipping vibranium weapons out to the war dogs?"

"He does." T'Challa looks at you curiously. "He also told me people were protesting N'Jadaka's actions. How did they learn about it?"

You smile bitterly. "Ayo and I decided to spread the word. I needed to slow him down so that I could reach Jabariland in time. She agreed to help." You look away. "I know people got hurt, but I didn't see any other way. I am sorry-"

"Don't apologize. You saved my mother and sister. You saved the last heart-shaped herb. You stopped N'Jadaka from starting his war before we were ready." T'Challa reaches over to wrap his hand around your wrist. "You did what you had to do. Thank you."

Agent Ross awkwardly clears his throat. "Uh… if you don't mind, um. Can someone explain what's our plan now?"

"The plan, Agent Ross," you say, "is to bring back the Black Panther and return to Wakanda to stop N'Jadaka once and for all."

"And what about this army you mentioned? You're going to ask… what's his name?"

"M'Baku."

"You're going to ask to borrow his?"

You glance at T'Challa, who has been here for days and knows more about the Great Gorilla than anybody else here. He looks hesitant. "I will try."

"You will—you will try. Okay," and the American sits down heavily on the couch. "This better not start another incident."

"It won't," T'Challa says. "None of this will leave Wakanda." He turns to his mother and Shuri and you. "The ritual can wait a few hours. Rest. You must be exhausted."

"I'm _starving_ ," Shuri says immediately while sprawling out on the bed. "Six days of dried goat meat and nuts. I am never eating goat again." She props herself up on her elbows. "What do the Jabari eat? I hope it's not leaves."

" _Shuri_ ," the queen mother sighs and smacks her ankle while you laugh. 

You watch T'Challa as he smiles and teases his sister. He is alive and it almost hurts realizing the great risk you took paid off. He is alive and you will save Wakanda together. But you also see shadows in his eyes as he fields questions from Shuri about the Jabari tech she saw. You wonder what happened while he was here, alone in the mountains with the Jabari. You wonder what happened between him and the Great Gorilla.

Later, you tell yourself. Ask him later when no one else is listening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a bit of inspiration from Ta-Nehisi Coates' A Nation Under Our Feet, which I read after learning it was one of the runs Ryan Coogler & Co. looked through while putting the movie together. It also _finally_ got me reading comics again after going without for nearly ten years. *eyes the Black Panther, Ms. Marvel, and Cable  & Deadpool issues in phone app*
> 
>  
> 
> I should also say that while the summary may make it seem like this is primarily M'Baku's story, it is actually T'Challa's. I just happen to find the film version of M'Baku to be a fascinating and challenging character.


	3. Panther

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just when I thought I couldn't edit this any slower....
> 
> Previous two chapters got minor face lifts so that the entire story flows. As usual, please enjoy my freewheeling headcanons as well as a small smattering of comics canon to fill in the gaps left by the pre-IW MCU.

"We need to talk."

N'Gamo did not question him, a rarity, but M'Baku didn't dwell on it. He couldn't; his thoughts were scattered all over the mountainside and he found it hard to breathe, to settle. He stared out the observation deck at the river valley down below but the sight no longer gave him solace. He found no peace.

Word was traveling through the stronghold. In hours, he'll be inundated with questions from his advisers about the royal family's presence, about the white man standing on Jabari earth, about the panther king. How should he answer their questions? How should he explain himself?

How should he explain T'Challa?

 _"There is hope, cousin,"_ Ce'Athauna had said when the war dog—"Her name is Nakia," she later said in a very strange tone—presented the dying heart-shaped herb. That was also his first thought. T'Challa will not wither away while his cousin destroys Wakanda and brings war to Jabariland. T'Challa will become Damisa-Sarki again and save both of their worlds.

Later, after he left the royal family to their desperate reunion, he realized that he will lose T'Challa, too. How many times had he called T'Challa foolish? He was the fool for thinking there was a chance, just a chance, that he wouldn't lose the man who understands him better than most. No, he will watch Damisa-Sarki return to Wakanda from afar. He will be left with memories and a host of angry, betrayed advisers who will question his capacity to lead, to put the Jabari above all else. 

It took effort, but M'Baku pushed those thoughts away for now. There was a more pressing matter to address, something he should've dealt with much earlier. 

He turned when N'Gamo entered the room. N'Gamo looked to have aged decades and he walked like a wizened elder.

"Great Gorilla," he said tiredly. "M'Baku."

"What happened?" M'Baku asked.

N'Gamo held up his bracer. "Yejide had questions. Wanted to know why you turned off your communicator. They all have the same questions. They _know_. It was obvious what you did."

M'Baku exhaled slowly. He felt hollow and tired, but there would be no rest for him, not for a long time. "How do you think we should approach this?"

Trust N'Gamo to already have a plan. "Talk to Chinwe. He is the elder among us. He knew your iya-nla, your baba, you. Tell him everything. Convince him why what you did was right and he can sway the others." N'Gamo walked to the deck and looked out at the mountains. "Why did you call me?"

M'Baku watched him, wondering how to explain himself. The advisers were a concern but N'Gamo was his right hand, his friend. He could not afford to alienate N'Gamo when everything was in limbo.

"You were right," he began, "about Hanuman's wisdom. I should have told you the truth, but I doubted him. I could not accept his wisdom."

N'Gamo sighed heavily. "What did the shamans always say? Hanuman is not Bast. He teaches by not giving us easy answers. That is why you share his wisdom with those you trust."

"Nothing is easier to understand than telling me to help T'Challa stop N'Jadaka," M'Baku said. "Nothing is easier than telling me to come down from the mountains and help Damisa-Sarki save Wakanda."

N'Gamo said nothing. M'Baku watched him, noting the deepening frown, the baffled furrow of his brow, and the rapid blinking as N'Gamo tried to understand what he just heard. 

"Did Hanuman really say that?" he finally asked. 

Details of Hanuman's wisdom tended to fade away within a day, leaving behind only strong impressions of the words he imparted on his people. If his wisdom could be recalled perfectly, word for word, he had his reasons.

" _Come down from the mountains, little gorilla. You have outgrown them._ " M'Baku spoke them slowly, distantly, as if in a trance. The words shook his bones and chilled the air. "I could not forget even if I wanted to."

N'Gamo shifted uneasily, frowning; he felt them, too, and knew they were not M'Baku's imagination. M'Baku waited for his response, knowing he deserved to wait for as long as N'Gamo needed him to. He stared down at the river valley and up at the mountains, at the stars and the satellites crossing the sky. 

"I should be angry at you," N'Gamo finally said, bitterly. "I suspected that Hanuman told you something harsh, something that did not sit well with his people. But you would not tell me. You kept… avoiding the matter. Now you say Hanuman wants us to help the panther king take his throne back. Now, while the royal family is also here."

"I should have told you earlier."

"Yes, you _should have_. I am your adviser, your _friend_. If I could not advise you, I could have listened." N'Gamo smiled suddenly, bittersweetly. "I suppose you found someone else."

"Only for a little while, and I did not tell him everything," M'Baku said quietly. "Your advice always weighs heaviest on my mind. I did not tell you then and I regret it. I am sorry. I am telling you now, as both your friend and the Great Gorilla."

"Then I will tell you this. You are the Great Gorilla but you are not alone. If you decide to come down from the mountains, you must have support. From what I heard the past hour, you don't have it. You kept Damisa-Sarki a secret for too long."

"I know," M'Baku scowled. "And I will accept responsibility for it. But we are out of time. If T'Challa fails to stop N'Jadaka, we will be in danger."

"Then you are saying we should follow him into battle. We will fight for him, shed blood and tears for him. Do you know what you ask of us?"

He did. It was a reason why he refused T'Challa, why he kept reminding the panther king that Wakanda didn't deserve the Jabari's help. 

"He asked me before and I told him no," he said. 

"And now?" N'Gamo asked. "If he asks you right now, what will you say?"

The answer pained him but it was the same as ever. Whatever feelings he had for T'Challa did not usurp his duty to his tribe. N'Gamo was the one watching him now and his eyes were sympathetic. His words were not.

"He will regain his strength, his Bast-given powers," N'Gamo said. "He has his sister and the war dog. Ce'Athauna told me she will help him. Is that not enough? What would the Jabari gain by fighting his battle?"

A thought, an intuition, pressed at the back of M'Baku's throat. It felt like Hanuman's wisdom.

"We must be heard," M'Baku said. "Wakanda has ignored us long enough. T'Challa will hear us but he is just one man."

"And you are also just one man." N'Gamo scratched his chin, hemmed and hawed, drummed blunt fingers on his bracer. "You cannot commit until you speak with the others."

"I would rather wrestle an enraged rhino," M'Baku muttered, making N'Gamo huff with laughter. 

Chinwe, the old man who knew his grandmother and father, could be convinced. Others will take time to win over, which was why it was important to talk with Chinwe first. But Bosede was the one M'Baku feared. They knew he was not entirely truthful about the cavern excavations. All they needed to do to find evidence for their postulations was juxtaposing the timing of the cavern excavations with events in Wakanda. They would realize that the Great Gorilla had endangered the Jabari for no reason other than his obsession with the young panther king.

"Be honest with Bosede," N'Gamo said. "Tell them everything." He taps on his bracer. "I'll ask Chinwe to meet us tomorrow morning-"

"Tell him to meet us now," M'Baku said. "No one will be asleep at this hour. We will meet here. I must convince him before I am ready to speak with the others."

With a nod, N'Gamo turned away to call Chinwe. M'Baku looked back at the moon crawling higher into the night sky.

* * *

* * *

It is nearly midnight, judging by the moon's position. Shuri and the queen mother are asleep in bed and Agent Ross is nodding off on the couch. T'Challa, who has more reason to sleep than any of you, is wide awake and standing on the shielded observation deck, staring out at Jabariland. He glances sideways at you and you set the withering heart-shaped herb on the wooden table you were admiring. You go to him and peer out at the night. You see moonlight on the snowy peaks, a distant satellite crossing the firmament, a cluster of village lights down below, the gleam of the river winding through the valley.

"I was supposed to be dead," T'Challa says softly. It is a hushed confession, laden with guilt. It hurts to hear. "I paid the price for protecting Wakanda's secrets but I did not die. Instead, the Jabari saved me."

"But you are not well," you say. "M'Baku said you're dying."

"He can be dramatic," he says with a strange wistfulness. "I will heal but slowly and that is time I don't have. Thank Bast you came when you did."

"What were you going to do if I didn't?" you ask.

He doesn't look at you. "I was going back to Birnin Zana anyway. I did not yield and I am clearly not dead, so he will have to challenge me again. Enough time for the doctors to look me over and heal me."

You look at him from head to toe. He is softer around the edges and wherever there's bare skin, there are scars. His face is more hollow than you remember and he looks wan even in bright moonlight. You reach out to touch his face and he sighs, closes his eyes and leans into your palm. He feels cold.

"You would've died," you say. "And this time he'd make sure of it."

"I wouldn't have just sat around waiting to start the challenge," he argues. "You think I wouldn't have spoken to Okoye? Ayo? My mother? Your father?"

Oh Bast. Of course he'd have a plan in place, a way to win even if he didn't survive. But that all hinged on him making it back to Birnin Zana alive and you can tell from a glance that he wouldn't have.

He knows it, too. "I had to try. What kind of man would I be if I didn't?"

"Then it is a good thing I am here," you say. "A good thing I saved the last herb and thought to bring it to the Jabari."

"You were always better at this," he admits. "I never would've thought to find them and ask for help."

You shrug. The solution was apparent once you realized what you were up against. "I needed an army. Besides," and you choose your words carefully now, "M'Baku made it obvious that he is interested in Wakanda's future. Why else did he come down from the mountains to challenge you? It made sense to think he would want the herb."

"You are not wrong." He isn't looking at you anymore. It is telling. 

You curl your hand against his stubbled jaw and coax him to look at you. He is hesitant and wary, uncertain. What happened between him and M'Baku?

"What happened while you were here?" you ask.

He doesn't say but you don't need him to. It is in in his eyes, wistfulness and regret you hadn't seen since you told him you were joining the Hatut Zeraze. You suddenly remember catching a glimpse of it in M'Baku's face when he brought you to the door. He knew what it meant, what he would lose once he opened it.

Your chest hurts. You don't know if it's sympathy or jealousy and you hope it's the former. T'Challa had always teased about sharing a future again and you knew how easy it would be to cross back over the line, but the past weeks have transformed you both. Whatever is on the other side isn't for you anymore. You can live with it—you made your choice when you left on your first assignment despite his pleas—but it still hurts to breathe. It still hurts knowing what you no longer have. 

Your silence speaks volumes to T'Challa. His hand clasps around your wrist and his smile is slow and sad. "Dying has a way of changing people, and so is getting a second chance to make things right. Wakanda's relationship with the Jabari is one. Another is the apology I owe you. I should have taken you seriously when you told me Wakanda was strong enough to protect itself and help others. I was close-minded and foolish. I'm sorry."

"I would have changed your opinion eventually, but thank you." He huffs a laugh at your cheek and you smile. That isn't exactly what you wanted to hear from him, though, and he knows it. "You haven't answer my question." 

"About that," and he looks sheepish, reminding you of your early days together. "I apparently become… terribly fond of people who have no problem telling me off for my mistakes. He's also given me a chance to bring the Mountain Tribe back to Wakanda."

"A chance you should take," you say. "Whatever you do, T'Challa, know that I love you and that you have my support—within reason. And that I would've made a great queen." You get a brilliant smile, a bright spark in his eyes, and it's easier to breathe. "You know it's true."

"Wakanda will benefit no matter what you do," he says. He looks more relaxed, more at ease with himself and around you. "Only you would have found a way to save us. Thank you."

You kiss him, gently and with as much love as you can convey. You wrap an arm around his waist and he leans into you as you watch the moon and the Milky Way and the golden village lights in the river valley, breathing in tandem, sharing warmth and silence. You commit this moment to memory, this stillness, this quiet before the storm. The moon makes steady progress across the sky before the queen mother stirs and calls for the both of you.

"It's time," T'Challa says and slips away.

* * *

* * *

It will never stop hurting. He still smells the acrid smoke. His mouth still tastes bitter with ash. His ears still ring. His arms still tremble with the weight of his father's body.

It is a weight that grew with each revelation, with each truth about the burdens of kingship, the responsibilities that came with ruling Wakanda. It is a weight he can no longer bear because it is tainted, stained with his uncle's blood, his cousin's lost childhood, the numberless faceless bodies sacrificed to protect Wakanda.

It is time for Wakanda to change. The panthers that came before him stare back silently, expressionless, but he sees something in his baba's face. His sorrow is leavened by pride.

_You are king now. Save Wakanda._

The last thing he remembers are twin shapes looming over the Djalia, larger than the faint shimmering silhouettes on the horizon. A great black panther stares down at him with purple eyes and a murky white shape laughs soundlessly.

* * *

* * *

* * *

N'Gamo watched him all morning and thought he was doing so discreetly. M'Baku ignored him while speaking with angry advisers, knowing he wouldn't say anything until they were done. He was glad Ce'Athauna wasn't here, or else she'd be voicing N'Gamo's mind in between the meetings. She'd be asking him for his thoughts about the long night.

As suspected, Chinwe was wide awake despite the very late hour and came to M'Baku's private quarters immediately when summoned. The old man had sat down without prompting and stared between them. His face was a weathered visage, time carved into his dark skin like the mountainside, but his eyes were sharp like a carrion bird’s. They darted between M'Baku and N'Gamo, assessing the situation.

"Explain yourself, M'Baku," he had finally said and so M'Baku did. He talked for over an hour, apologizing for yet justifying his actions, but he knew he had won over the elder when he mentioned his second visit to the sanctuary. 

"I will not dispute Hanuman's wisdom," Chinwe said afterward, "nor should anyone who follows his ways. If he believes our future lies with the young panther, then so be it.

"But," he added when M'Baku began to relax, "you should not have held secrets from us. We are Jabari. Deception is unbecoming and potentially dangerous. You know this. You will answer for it when this matter with the usurper king is over."

"I know," M'Baku said with a grimace. He had seen N'Gamo standing off to the side, whispering furiously into his communicator, and knew this would be the easiest conversation of the long night. "Thank you, Chinwe."

"You still have many others to convince, young gorilla," the old man said and left.

Kayode was now the one sitting in the chair, twirling a braid between her fingers while considering M'Baku's explanation. She was the seventh adviser of the morning, and had arrived with a furrow between her thick eyebrows and an unimpressed frown. The furrow deepened and the frown became a scowl as he talked, and when he was done she asked, "Have you talked to Bosede yet?"

He held back a frustrated huff. "I have not."

She nodded slowly. "Great Gorilla, I came here out of respect for who you were. I see now that you have yet to regain that respect."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember when you first announced you would challenge Damisa-Sarki for the throne? Some of us thought you were foolish to want such a thing. If you became king, what would you do at the head of a people who follow Bast, who worship her precious metal?"

"I would've shown them our might. I would've shown them Hanuman's wisdom."

"But to what _end_?" Kayode asked. "You said you wanted them to acknowledge us. You wanted them to remember that we are here. And then what? Were we to continue living in the mountains or did you plan on bringing us to a city away from them?"

"What would you have preferred?" M'Baku asked.

She folded her arms tightly. "What could Wakanda possibly offer that we don't already have?"

She thought too much like Bosede. M'Baku sighed inwardly. "The world is changing. That is something no one can control. We can adapt to the changes but how quickly? What about the people already suffering?"

"We have solutions-"

"The people will be overwhelmed. We know this." M'Baku hemmed and hawed over his next words. "We cannot solve these problems on our own. Not anymore."

"I do not believe that," Kayode said. She rose to her feet. "Convince Bosede, then I may also be convinced."

After she left, M'Baku sat down heavily at the foot of his bed and dragged his hands down his face. He was tired and frustrated, and had no one to blame but himself. If he had told them right after the patrolmen brought T'Challa's body to the stronghold, he would not be in his current predicament. He would not be trying to salvage what confidence his advisers still had in him.

But if he had told them from the beginning, they might have suggested letting the panther king die; he lost his kingdom, after all, and the Jabari had no obligation to keep him alive. What would they have done when the white gorillas came? What would they have said when the war dog and the queen mother offered M'Baku the heart-shaped herb?

"You are in luck," N'Gamo suddenly said. "Bosede was called away to mediate a dispute between two villages. You have time yet to devise an approach."

"And yet I still dread it," M'Baku said. He kneaded his brow. "Any word from Ce'Athauna?"

"Not yet," N'Gamo said. "They are probably still recovering from last night."

Since she was tasked with keeping an eye on the royal family, Ce'Athauna was the one who contacted M'Baku after Chinwe left. She told him the queen mother requested a place to perform the ritual that gave the Black Panther their powers.

"It must be done tonight," Ce'Athauna had said, "or else the plant dies."

"What sort of place do they need?" M'Baku asked.

Ce'Athauna took a few seconds to respond. "… well, they need to bury him for this to work."

His first thought was the courtyard with its deep snow and N'Gamo suggested it to Ce'Athauna. Then his thoughts wandered back to the grove of Jabari trees and the rich earth underfoot and the bittersweet taste of T'Challa's mouth, and he said, "The mountain grove."

"M'Baku-" N'Gamo began.

"Nothing more fitting than Bast's chosen being reborn at the roots of Hanuman's tree," M'Baku said in a tone that invited no argument. "Ask them what else they need, then meet us there."

Now, the mountain grove showed no signs of being witness to a Wakandan ritual but M'Baku still glanced at a certain spot between the roots of the oldest tree while talking with Yejide about her current project. Even with the turmoil surrounding Damisa-Sarki's presence in the stronghold, life went on in Jabariland. 

"I called on Chinwe after our talk," she said casually while examining the leaves of her experimental plants. "One can choose to ignore the wisdom of Hanuman himself at great cost, but I must know that we will not lose our way if we return to Wakanda."

“I will make sure of it," M'Baku said firmly. "It was also Hanuman who said we must be heard. Now, explain how this particular strain can survive floods."

After Yejide said she wouldn't have results for another season, he and N'Gamo left the grove. N'Gamo was scanning the adviser's report on his bracer while M'Baku stared at the light globes placed in the crevices of the corridor, recalling T'Challa's sister's baffled expression when she saw them. He grinned to himself at the memory and turned to tell N'Gamo about it when Ce'Athauna called.

"Cousin." She sounded weary. "Damisa-Sarki wants to speak with you. Are you busy?"

He glanced at N'Gamo. "Send him to the throne room. And get some sleep. Someone else can take watch."

"So should you. Sounds like a toad crawled down your throat," she said and ended communications.

"He must want something," N'Gamo said while they veered down a different hallway. "Does he dare ask for more aid? He knows your answer. Can't he respect that?"

"He has no choice but to try." M’Baku spotted Kayode and Uzoma, another troublesome adviser, waiting at the entrance to the throne room. "What do they want?"

They wanted to discuss a matter involving the fishing villages, something that usually demanded attention and deliberation. While N'Gamo argued about the timing of their desired meeting, M'Baku's mind went elsewhere. He couldn't stop wondering how he'll answer if T'Challa asked again for help. 

There was only one answer M'Baku could give; the Jabari leadership was in turmoil over his actions and agreeing to give aid regardless of how they felt could spell his end. Moreover, however things changed between them, he could not forget nor ignore centuries of Wakandan indifference towards the Jabari. He could not offer Jabari men to Damisa-Sarki's cause.

It hurt no matter how he justified his answer.

"-does the Great Gorilla say?" Uzoma asked sharply.

M'Baku straightened in his seat. He glanced between the advisers and an exasperated N'Gamo. He couldn't tell if the man was annoyed with him or Uzoma.

"If the reports of declining catches are true, then we will look into it," N'Gamo said when he continued to be silent. "But that cannot be now. The matter with the panther king must be resolved first-"

"What sort of matter?" Uzoma pressed. "That he is standing on Jabari soil or that the Great Gorilla decided on his own to harbor a dethroned king? How long must we wait before he stops thinking about Damisa-Sarki and starts thinking about his own people-"

"Enough," M'Baku snapped. He knew exactly what the adviser was trying to accomplish. "You may speak to me later in private about the villages' grievances. But right now, the future of Jabariland is at stake."

"At stake? We have lived apart from Wakanda for centuries already. We will continue without them-"

He was getting a headache. It throbbed behind his right brow and he pressed his fingertips to the spot. "We are done for today."

N'Gamo stared at them until the advisers finally left the room. M'Baku did not miss the look Kayode gave him. It promised future troubles.

"This wouldn't have happened if you bothered to pay attention," N'Gamo remarked once they were gone. "You could at least act like you care."

"You think I don't?" 

N'Gamo sighed. "They do not know what we know. If you want to convince them, then _act_ like they matter. All you are doing right now is proving Uzoma's point." He dragged a hand over his scalp. "Damisa-Sarki has been nothing but trouble since he washed up in that fisherman's nets."

M'Baku could not protest it. He settled in his carved throne and waited for T'Challa to arrive. He looked at the polished branches of Jabari wood hanging from the stone ceiling and realized that T'Challa had never been here before. What sort of impression would this throne room make on him?

N'Gamo's bracer lit up. "He is here."

He sat up straight as the doors opened and Damisa-Sarki walked in. He was seeing T'Challa for the first time since last night and had forgotten how the ritual, the rites, changed him. How it transformed him into the panther king, the Black Panther. 

M'Baku knew the details of the ritual and had turned his back to the small gathering at the roots of the oldest Jabari tree out of respect. He glanced at his cousin, who had done the same even though she brimmed with curiosity. He had looked up at the night sky through the canopy, listening to the queen mother's whispered chants to Bast and letting them lull him into a mindless trance.

A sharp gasp told him it was over. He and Ce'Athauna turned as one to see the Black Panther, Damisa-Sarki, emerge from his shallow grave, brushing dirt off his unmarked skin with practiced ease. He didn't just look stronger and healthier; he carried himself differently, with an otherworldly grace that hinted at Bast's gift flowing in his veins. 

"At least Hanuman doesn't ask us to bury ourselves alive for a couple minutes," Ce'Athauna said lightly.

M'Baku only hummed in response. He couldn't take his eyes off of the panther king because T'Challa was now looking at him. Damisa-Sarki's eyes were bright and sharp and _knowing_ , and they unsettled him. He held his breath until T'Challa finally looked away.

"Stay with them," M'Baku told Ce'Athauna. "Make sure they have everything they need."

"Yes, of course," she said. She was staring at Damisa-Sarki, too. "Imagine if you had won the fight-"

M'Baku shuddered at the thought. "I'd rather not."

He noticed the war dog Nakia watching him as he left the grove. He didn't know what to make of the curious frown on her face.

She wasn't here now. The royal family and the white American were also absent. It was only the panther king, strolling into the throne room, head held high and hands clasped behind his back. Sunlight gleamed on a necklace around his neck. They looked like vibranium teeth, or claws. _Fitting for a panther_ , M'Baku thought. 

Despite his slender build and lack of bulky armor and furs, Damisa-Sarki commanded all attention in the throne room. Everyone was watching him but he looked only at M'Baku.

"Great Gorilla," he said. He glanced at N'Gamo and the guards in the room. "I wish to speak with you alone."

A surprising request. M'Baku nodded and gestured to N'Gamo to dismiss the others. T'Challa waited until the last person left the throne room and then approached the dais.

"I heard some interesting things earlier today," T'Challa began. "Not directly, but Ce'Athauna spent all morning arguing with people about me. I did not realize how… controversial it was keeping me alive."

"They're angry because I told them nothing about you until your family showed up," M'Baku said.

"While I'm grateful to be alive," the panther king said slowly, "I want to know why you did it. Why did you?"

M'Baku shrugged. "I was not in the mood to explain myself. I am not very popular with them now, but they will live with it."

T'Challa smiled. "How do the Jabari put up with you?"

"Hanuman only knows, though he may have also grown tired of me," M'Baku replied. He waited until T'Challa stopped laughing before saying, "You said you wanted to see me."

"I did." T'Challa looked around the throne room while stepping closer to the dais. "I must commend whoever designed this room. It is impressive. Everything points to the view of Jabariland… and you."

"I _am_ the Great Gorilla." M'Baku arched an eyebrow. "Well?"

"We are leaving at noon. Nakia thinks there isn't much time left before N'Jadaka strikes. Ce'Athauna tells me there is a way to reach Mount Bashenga undetected. Is that true?"

"It is the same way we surprised you at Warrior Falls," M'Baku replied. "You might want to ask your war dog about it. I'm surprised they didn’t have eyes on them during your coronation day."

"I see." T'Challa brushed his fingers over a polished Jabari branch with a thoughtful expression. Then he shook his head and looked at M'Baku. "I ask that my mother be allowed to stay here until it is safe to bring her home."

It was a reasonable request. M'Baku nodded. "She will be safe, I promise."

T'Challa took a step forward. He hesitated, pressing his lips tightly while pondering his next words. 

"I could also use an army…."

They both knew his answer, but M'Baku still laughed. "You could… but no."

"I had to try," T'Challa said wryly. He stepped up onto the dais with the ease of a panther. His eyes were on M'Baku and they held his complete attention. "I wanted to thank you. You have done more for me and Wakanda than we deserve. Whatever happens after, I want you to know that the Jabari will not be forgotten."

"Don't worry, this won't be the last time you hear from us," M'Baku said. His mouth dried as T'Challa took that one step from the edge of the dais to his seat, standing much closer than anybody else would ever dare. "Any other requests you want to try?"

"Just this." T'Challa leaned in and his hands cupped M'Baku's face. They were much warmer and stronger than expected, and they held M'Baku still while T'Challa kissed him. It was brief and gentle and fierce, and they were breathless when T'Challa pulled back. He pressed his forehead to M'Baku's and softly said, "I'm sorry we did not have more time."

"Yet I am glad for it," M'Baku replied. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't stop thinking about the request he made yesterday, a foolish request made by a foolish man. _I do not want us to be forgotten._ "Don't do anything foolish."

T'Challa was smiling as he stepped off the dais. "I fight for my people with only my sister, Nakia, and your cousin at my side. Is that not the very definition of foolish?"

M'Baku waited until T'Challa left and then sat back in his seat, dragging a hand down his face and willing himself to breathe, to be calm, to get a hold of himself. It would be just minutes before N'Gamo returned and he didn't want his friend to look at him differently, to know too much. But N'Gamo would know anyway. He always did.

N'Gamo entered the throne room. He looked at M'Baku reproachfully, searching for clues to explain what the private meeting was and how it concluded.

"So. What did he ask?"

"Permission for his mother to remain here with us until he defeats N'Jadaka," M'Baku replied evenly. He sat forward, clasping his hands. "I agreed to it."

N'Gamo nodded once, slowly. "Is that all?"

 _No._ "Yes. Where is Ce'Athauna?"

"In the armory. Why?"

"I am considering our odds," he said, "if Damisa-Sarki fails and her identity is discovered."

N'Gamo understood immediately. "The latest report says the mud should be cleared away by the end of the day. Shall I send word to move the caches?"

"Yes. We must be ready for anything," M'Baku said and rose to his feet. His part in T'Challa's story was over but he had his own to carry out. "Is Bosede still playing mediator between the two villages?"

"Others learned they were visiting the valley and requested their presence. It may be hours before they return."

He sighed. "Then let's go see Uzoma."

* * *

Queen Mother Ramonda asked to speak to the Great Gorilla in the evening. It was inevitable, and he tried not to speculate on the reason why while walking through the hall. He squared his shoulders before entering the throne room. It was, he thought as he sat down and surveyed the silhouettes of the Jabari branches before him, the perfect place to have a conversation with Wakanda's queen mother.

She entered a minute later. She was a striking woman, regal in ways that reminded him of his iya-nla and mother; she was graceful and poised but brimmed with command and power. She did not look down at the ground as she crossed the room to him and her steps were precise and certain. She regarded him coolly and then nodded in acknowledgment and deferment. 

"Great Gorilla. M'Baku," she said. "Thank you for allowing me to remain here in your mountains."

"It is the least I can do," he replied. He waited for her to speak but she chose instead to look over his shoulder at the moonlit mountains behind him. "Queen Mother. You asked to see me."

"I was just admiring the view. You certainly know how to capture your guest's attention." Her gaze finally fell back to him. "You did Wakanda the greatest service by saving my son's life. Yet you believe that is all you can offer. I do not and neither do you."

He arched an eyebrow. "Bold words for a guest of the Jabari."

"I am old enough not to care," she declared with a smile. It slid off in the next second and she looked away, eyes full of grief. "I am old enough to weather tragedies without buckling under the weight. I thought I lost my son but he was here all this time, alive. I am in your debt."

"There is none. He spared my life and so I returned the favor," M'Baku said. He thought about the cold body in the back of a fisherman's wagon and the flutter of a pulse under his fingertips. "You cannot ask more of us. We have done enough."

"It will never be enough. That was why you came down from the mountains that day. Everything you did was to prove a point. If you do not plan to go away, then you are not finished."

What was she saying? "That is true. We, the Jabari, will not be silent-"

"He told me about Hanuman's gift," the queen mother continued softly. "He told me Hanuman believes it is time for the Mountain Tribe to come down from the mountains. Yet you refuse to help him. Why? Is it because we had done nothing to earn your trust? Is it because you fear your feelings for my son will lead you astray? Or are your people telling you to ignore your god's wisdom to spite ours?"

He stared at her. "Queen Mother Ramonda-"

"I know what I saw," she said, "and I know you bear many burdens. He will not be one of them, if you let him. And even if you don't, are you and the Jabari not also Wakandan?" She looked out at the snowy peaks. "Remind your people of that. Tell them your mountains will not protect you forever. Reconsider your decision. Help my son save Wakanda."

Her eyes lingered on his for longer than he felt comfortable with. Satisfied with what she found, the queen mother turned and left the room. He didn't exhale until she was gone and then he sank into his chair. His burdens sat so heavily on his shoulders and chest. They would not let him breathe easily.

She knew how to strip away the last excuses, the last shreds of doubt. He found no argument that could withstand the wisdom of her words. She was right, after all; the Jabari stood apart and yet was a part of Wakanda, and whatever happened to the nation will happen to them. Regardless of how his advisers felt about T'Challa, the previous panthers, vibranium, and the centuries of indifference, they could not ignore the threat at their doorstep.

_When Damisa-Sarki comes down from the mountains, follow him._

He tapped on his bracer. "N'Gamo."

"M'Baku. Did she ask you to help Damisa-Sarki?"

He looked over his shoulder at the rising moon. How much time already passed since Ce'Athauna led T'Challa, his sister, and the war dog out of the mountains? "Summon the other advisers. I must speak with them."

N'Gamo was silent for a long moment. "… first, we will speak."

He ended communications without another word and M'Baku sighed while lowering his arm. He could only imagine what his friend would say. He could imagine how it would _look_. And if the others caught wind of his meeting with the queen mother? He rubbed circles over his right temple until N'Gamo arrived.

He went straight to the dais, looked M'Baku in the eye, and asked, "Are you sure about this?"

M'Baku arched an eyebrow. He had expected another short speech about panthers and angry advisers. "You have nothing else to say?"

N'Gamo sighed and looked at the polished Jabari wood gleaming in the moonlight. "What else is there? Our fate has become entwined with Wakanda's, though one could argue they have always been. We spent years saying and living otherwise but these past weeks have… shown that is no longer the case."

M'Baku sat back and considered N'Gamo with new eyes. "Of all the people to say such a thing…."

"I had time to think. I had time to accept that perhaps we should have a greater say in Wakanda's future, and I would rather we choose how and when to return to it," N'Gamo said. He smiled. "It is the Jabari way, is it not? And with you as Great Gorilla? It should be spectacular."

M'Baku grinned. "We shall announce ourselves so loudly that even the gods will watch. We will seize the battlefield and prove indispensable. Impossible to ignore."

"You still need to convince the others," N'Gamo said dryly. "You still haven't talked to Bosede. They approached me after you left to meet with the queen mother. They wonder if you are hiding from them."

He scoffed. "Says the one who spent all day in the valley mediating the pettiest disputes. Fine. I will talk with Bosede first."

Bosede had always been a challenging person. They came from one of several families that tended to Hanuman's gift through the centuries, and so they saw the Jabari way as paramount to the tribe's identity and survival. M'Baku's father was inclined to listen to Bosede's advice; M'Baku, not so much. This meeting regarding Damisa-Sarki and M'Baku's deception should be spectacular for all the wrong reasons.

M'Baku was not in his seat when Bosede walked into the throne room. He was observing the play of moonlight on a silvery Jabari branch and turned around when Bosede tapped the ground with their knobkerrie.

"You wished to speak with me, Great Gorilla." It was not a question.

"I did—since this morning. But I heard you had matters to attend to and chose to wait." He strolled to the front of the dais, hands clasped behind his back. He eyed Bosede, searching their sharp face. "We have a little time before I call in the others."

"I know. I also know that you met everybody else this morning. I confess that I went down to the villages when I did on purpose. I did not want to face you so soon after the revelation that you harbored a deposed king in secret." Bosede was not broad-shouldered like the others but they were taller and their dark eyes glanced down at M'Baku. "You do not regret your deception."

"No." Bosede did not react. "I kept quiet to prevent word from getting out. The fewer who knew about Damisa-Sarki, the better it was for all of us."

"You did not trust us."

"I trusted no one who wasn't already present," M'Baku said tactfully. "I saw no reason to inform more people until the time was right. From what I heard about the outsider sitting on the Wakandan throne, I made the right decision."

Bosede pressed their lips tightly. "Fine. I accept that. But tell me this, Great Gorilla—was I right about the excavations at the southern caverns? Did you know about the nature of King N'Jadaka and continue to keep us in the dark?"

He grimaced. He'd hoped that Bosede wouldn't bring it up and further reveal what he willingly did to hide T'Challa's presence. "It was not my intention. I prepared for the possibility based on information Damisa-Sarki gave me, but he was here for a week. He did not know everything that was happening in Wakanda."

"But he knew enough to inform your decision to investigate, which led to the discovery of the mudslide." Bosede shook their head. "If your baba was here-"

"He is not. I am." M'Baku drew himself up to his full height, bringing him to nearly eye-level with his adviser. "If you believe I am no longer competent, issue your challenge. But I know you talked to Chinwe. What did he tell you? What did he say about Hanuman's wisdom?"

"That Hanuman told you it was time for us to come down from our mountains and join with Wakanda," Bosede replied, making a face like the words tasted bitter. "You went to him twice and he told you both times. You could not interpret his words any other way."

"And what do you know about King N'Jadaka?" He turned to look at the snow-topped mountains behind him. "If he is not stopped, he will either conquer us or his war will draw outsiders to our mountains. That will devastate us. And if these outsiders learned about the Jabari wood… I did not know what was upon us when I decided not to tell you about King T'Challa. Now we both do. Our fate is tied to his, Bosede, and I will not see the Jabari fall."

He stared at Bosede but they would not be swayed yet.

"Do you realize what it is you ask of us? What we will lose if we bow before the panther king? What becomes of Hanuman's gift? What becomes of his wisdom, his sanctuary? What becomes of the Jabari, our people, our ways?"

_Be their voice. Make Damisa-Sarki listen. The Jabari will not be forgotten again._

"You know why I challenged T'Challa," M'Baku said. "You know how long we watched from the mountains while Wakanda slowly lost their way. Is this not our chance to be heard? Our chance to remind them of who we are and who they used to be?"

"I know Damisa-Sarki asked for our men. You are willing to spill blood in his name?"

"And in _ours_. We are Jabari _and_ Wakandan. We will help save Wakanda and bring our wisdom to them." M'Baku took a deep breath. "But it is because of what I ask that I won't commit without unanimous support. Many eyes are on you to make your decision. What do you say?"

Bosede finally dropped their gaze. They gripped their knobkerrie tightly, knowing that they had once again been driven into a corner. 

"You still have much to answer for, M'Baku," Bosede said quietly, tiredly. "Deception is unbecoming of a Great Gorilla, even if Hanuman looked the other way."

"I am aware. I will answer for it in due time."

They squared their shoulders and looked at him. They looked unhappy but their words were music.

"We will make ourselves heard. Summon the others. Tell them that I stand with you."

* * *

M'Baku paid a visit to the queen mother. Despite the late hour, he knew she would be awake; who could sleep when the mountains were alive with warriors congregating at the stronghold's armory? Queen Mother Ramonda stood at the observation deck, watching Jabariland without really seeing but hearing everything and knowing why. 

She did not turn to see who her visitor was.

"We are leaving within the hour," M'Baku said. "A trusted adviser will remain to watch the mountains. You will be safe here."

She exhaled.

"Thank you."

* * *

* * *

* * *

Shuri meets him in the ruins of her lab. Glass shards litter the floor and blast marks scar the white walls and murals, but she isn't lamenting her losses. She cradles damaged panther-shaped vibranium gauntlets in her arms but drops them when she sees him. He has to step over the overturned workstations and broken equipment to reach her. Her smile wavers with relief and exhaustion and he feels the same.

"Brother," she says and T'Challa envelops her in a hug.

The weight of the past days and weeks come crashing down on their heads and they sink to the floor, holding each other tightly, crying for what they lost and what they had to fight for. It's _over_ now, and he can’t remember ever feeling so weary and so relieved.

"What happened?" Shuri eventually asks. She picks up a piece of glass and turns it this way and that, observing the shatter pattern. She tosses it and looks at him. "Is he…?"

T'Challa shakes his head. He isn't ready to talk about their cousin yet.

"What about you? Are you hurt?"

He huffs tiredly. "I should be the one asking you. Are you?"

"I'll feel better after I clean up this mess," she says but her attempted exuberance falters. She rubs her hands and wrists while staring at her dropped gauntlets. "You came just in time. If you were even a second late…." She then leans forward to touch a vibranium claw embedded in his suit. "It kept you safe."

" _You_ kept me safe," T'Challa says. "If you hadn't brought it with you, things would've gone very differently. What about the others? Are Nakia and Okoye…?"

"Nakia got hurt but she's fine. Insists it's just a scratch." Her mouth twitches like she's withholding laughter. He arches an eyebrow. "I'll explain later. Honestly, Brother… anyway. Okoye talked W'Kabi into standing down and ending the whole fight. Agent Ross is intact, which is good news for me since I can't fix anyone with my lab like this. Ce'Athauna is fine, and a bit mad."

"Why?"

"Something about M'Baku showing up with a bunch of men without telling her first."

 _What?_ He stares at her, dumbfounded. After everything M'Baku said…. "The Jabari came?"

"Oh yes. The Border Tribe had us all surrounded and then the next thing I knew, M'Baku was there shouting about the 'might of the Jabari' or something and they broke through the shield wall." She taps her chin. "Wonder what Mother said to convince him." She then glances at T'Challa when he snorts at the thought. "Or maybe he had another reason."

"You know how convincing she can be," T'Challa says. "Besides, I asked M'Baku several times before and he refused every time. What makes you think his reasons for coming here have anything to do with me?"

She shakes her head in disbelief. "An agent from a foreign country was ready to die for us. What does that say about you, hmm? Why are you selling yourself so short?"

He rolls his eyes while getting to his feet. "I am not and it is not what you think." He holds his finger up when she opens her mouth. "First, I need your help with something."

T'Challa and Shuri leave her lab to a breathtaking vivid sunset piercing through the dissipating smoke from the crashed dragonflyer. It seems like half of Wakanda is on the Great Mound. The Dora Milaje and Jabari warriors stand guard over the disarmed, silent Border tribesmen and their war rhinos. Okoye and M'Baku are on the steps of the mine entrance, flanking a solemn W'Kabi while waiting for his arrival. T'Challa's heart aches at the sight of his old friend and all that they lost since his return from Busan empty-handed. Few will forgive the First Shield for what he did, and he knows it.

Okoye sees T'Challa first. She calls out to the other Dora and then kneels. "My king."

Almost everyone, from the defeated Border tribesmen to Nakia and Ayo to a very tired and rumpled Agent Ross, kneels. The Jabari remain standing, waiting for M'Baku's cue. And M'Baku, well, he is waiting for T'Challa's. Everyone watches him walk up to the Great Gorilla, who returns his gaze coolly and gives nothing away.

"M'Baku," he says. "I did not expect you and the Jabari to return to Wakanda so quickly."

"We heard you were in trouble," M'Baku replies readily and gestures to the kneeling Border tribesmen, "and seeing how an outsider had sown discord among your people, we thought it better to interfere than watch you struggle."

"Their timing was most… fortuitous," Okoye says skeptically while rising to her feet, "but they swayed the battle in your favor." She presses her mouth tightly, considering her next words. "War dogs in Hong Kong, London, and New York City are waiting for their next orders. The longer we wait, the greater the risk of outsiders discovering the vibranium weapons that were already shipped out."

"Recall them now. Bring back all weapons. Nothing must be left behind."

Now comes a most difficult conversation. He steels himself and turns to W'Kabi. His old friend remains kneeling, eyes on the ground, unable to meet his gaze. 

"Old friend."

"My king," W'Kabi replies hoarsely. "I am responsible for what happened today. These men only followed my orders. Do not condemn them."

"I understand why you stood with N'Jadaka," he says softly though his words still carried down the slope from the mine entrance. His chest constricts at the painful memory of W'Kabi walking N'Jadaka into the Citadel and holding up Chanda's ring as proof of N'Jadaka's heritage. "I wish I can understand why you interfered with the challenge. I wish I can understand why you thought N'Jadaka was the only answer. How can anyone trust you after this? How can I?"

"You cannot," W'Kabi says, "and I am sorry to have lost it."

"That's all you have to say?" Shuri mutters. "Sorry for breaking the rules of the challenge but not for supporting N'Jadaka because killing a man is all it takes to be king-"

"Shuri," T'Challa says sharply.

She glowers at W'Kabi. "You shouldn't be the First Shield anymore."

"The Council will decide that," T'Challa says. "Okoye, tell them—no, I will tell them. I will tell everyone what happened here. Wakanda deserves to know the truth."

He raises his wrist and taps a bead on his new set of kimoyo beads, connecting it to every communications device in Wakanda. Even the Jabari's bracers light up and M'Baku looks at a smug Shuri in surprise.

"It's working, Brother," she says softly.

T'Challa nods and clears his throat.

* * *

* * *

Nothing King N'Jadaka did contained the protests for long. Here and there, people gathered in open spaces to call out the Border tribesmen and Dora Milaje in their midst, demanding answers to the news that the new king was stockpiling vibranium weapons and searching for war.

In a small town north of the seat of the Merchant Tribe, the Dora found themselves defending the protesters from the Border tribesmen in the town square.

"You would disobey your king?" a Border captain demanded of the Dora captain who was holding him at bay with her spear.

A few of the protestors were bloody and bruised from the sudden brief altercation. Many more were recording the scene with their kimoyo beads.

"I disobey anyone who disrespects what the throne stands for and who the throne protects," she replied coldly. "Back away, Sipho. Do not force my hand."

"You sound just like the general. So blind to the dangers around us for the sake of _traditions_. You think he doesn't know who you're really fighting for? Dead panthers won't save you, Aneka. They will only make your banishment certain-"

Gasps spread throughout the crowd behind the Dora captain. A signal interrupted the recordings and kimoyo beads glowed purple. Aneka and Sipho lowered their weapons and glanced at each other warily, knowing exactly what it meant. Everybody knew what it meant.

The king was broadcasting to every corner of Wakanda.

A group of protesters linked their beads, generating a large projection for others to see. Gasps and cries of shock and joy rippled through the crowd when the projection revealed a dead panther's face. Sipho hung his head in shame while Aneka slowly smiled.

 _"Border Tribe,"_ King T'Challa announced. _"Stand down. Cease all fighting. Listen to me._

_"I, T'Challa, son of T'Chaka, did not die when N'Jadaka cast me down during the challenge. I did not die and did not yield, therefore I was still king. When I returned to finish the challenge, the First Shield interfered. He will answer to the Council for his actions, but he asked me not to punish the tribesmen who followed his commands. I ask that you lay down your shields and return to your homes and families. It is over, and I am king._

_"Wakanda, you were right to suspect N'Jadaka. He believed he had been wronged by the world and wanted to use us to make the world answer for their crimes. As you know, Wakanda does not wage war… but we are guilty of inaction. We spent too long hiding from the world, allowing so many to suffer in order to protect our vibranium and our way of life. That was why N'Jadaka returned. That is why we must change."_

The king turned his gaze elsewhere and people began whispering when they caught a glimpse of Jabari warriors standing among the Dora.

_"Wakanda has been through much… turmoil this past month, more than you deserve. You know now the crime my father committed to protect us. You have seen the consequences. It never should have happened, and it never will again._

_"We must learn from this. We must understand that the world is growing smaller and our way of life cannot continue as is. We can no longer be ignorant of our place in the world. We will change. We_ must _change, before the world changes us. And we will do it as one people, as one tribe. It is how we will survive."_

* * *

* * *

There is a little time to talk while the Border tribesmen turn their weapons over to the Dora Milaje and Shuri combs through her destroyed lab. Shuttles are flying in from Birnin Zana with medical personnel and members of the Hatut Zeraze on board. One shuttle will take Ayo and Ce'Athauna to the mountain stronghold to bring back the queen mother.

There is a little time to talk so T'Challa takes Okoye aside and asks how she is faring.

"I am fine," she says calmly. She is lying. There are lines in her face and her smile is a brittle shield. "I should be asking you."

"You were here. You watched over the throne and the people while I was gone. You kept Wakanda safe."

"I tried," she says. "Bast knows I tried. But there was only so much I could do. He had W'Kabi's ear and the Mining Tribe-" She presses her lips tightly. Politics has never been her strongest suit. "They were… lenient to his demands. If N'Jadaka had his war, that meant more vibranium and they have the mines."

"It makes sense," T'Challa says slowly and with a grimace. "And the others?"

"They knew what war meant. They tried to explain but N'Jadaka was... he did not understand. He was an outsider, what did he know? But W'Kabi." She sighs. "I know why he did it, and he is not the only one. Many in the Border Tribe are tiring of playing pretend for the rest of the world. They are tiring of how the world sees us. They want a stronger leader and don't believe you can be."

"The world is catching up," T'Challa says softly, though his heart sinks at her warning. He glances at the huddle of subdued Border tribesmen being attended to by medics. The sullen glower on their faces is telling. "It has been weighing on my mind this past week."

"A week in Jabariland," Okoye notes with an arched eyebrow. "I'm surprised they allowed you to stay."

"They may not like us but they aren't heartless. I was dying and they owed me for sparing M'Baku's life," he says. He tries not to look for the man, knowing how keen Okoye's eyes are. "They have agreed to come down from the mountains."

Her other eyebrow rises in surprise. "No panther has stepped foot in Jabariland in centuries, and you convinced them to rejoin Wakanda in one week?"

"I can be persuasive," he says mildly. 

She rolls her eyes. "Do not remind me." 

The corner of his mouth twitches in a smile, recalling their youthful misadventures. His new kimoyo beads thrum with Shuri's call. She asks him to meet her down in the lab and so he and Okoye part ways.

The sun is sinking below the horizon when he finally returns to Birnin Zana. The city shows no ill effects of Agent Ross's dogfight with the rogue dragonflyers but the city doesn't look as golden and bright as he remembers. Something is amiss but he doesn't see any reason for it.

"What is it?” Okoye asks when she notices him peering out the window with a deep frown.

"Did something happen in the city while I was gone?"

She thinks on it and then shakes her head. "Nothing you don't already know. Why?"

Perhaps he is imagining things. _Or,_ a voice whispers, _I am seeing Birnin Zana with new eyes._ "It is nothing."

As T'Challa watches from above, a crowd gathers in the square in front of the Citadel, kimoyo beads glowing brightly. They are recording every moment, he realizes. He looks at the others as the shuttle lands, anticipation and dread rising in his throat, and Shuri has to prod him to move. People call out to him as he strides past, still in his panther suit, and then their voices sink into baffled murmurs and shock at the sight of M'Baku, two Jabari warriors, and Agent Ross following him, Shuri, Nakia, and the Dora Milaje.

"Aren't they… why are the Jabari still here? What do they want?"

"A white man? Is this how it ends?"

Members of the Council wait for T'Challa on the steps of the Citadel, wearing grave faces. They didn't bother with ceremonial robes or presentation. They greet him quietly and with deference, though T'Challa notes tension in the eyes of the Border and Mining Tribes' leaders.

"Thanks be to Bast that you are alive and well, my king," says the matriarch of the Mining Tribe.

He watches her carefully, recalling Okoye's informal report. "It was not just Bast but also luck and the Jabari." He steps aside so they can see M'Baku watching and listening from below. "They saved my life and came to our aid when the battle was against us. They have agreed to stay."

Her eyes widen. "Do you mean…?"

"Yes."

The Council glances at each other worriedly, obviously remembering the encounter at Warrior Falls a lifetime ago. T'Challa braces himself.

The matriarch of the Merchant Tribe steps forward, her old sharp eyes studying M'Baku. "After all the Great Gorilla said about us on your coronation, they are willing to come down from their mountains and join with the rest of Wakanda?"

"We will come down from them when needed, iya-nla," M'Baku suddenly says and with a flash of teeth. "It seems that right now, we are needed."

The old woman leans forward on her cane. "You are not wrong. This is a vulnerable time for Wakanda. We will need all the help we can get."

"I agree," Nakia's father says. "The months to follow will be difficult as we recover. I welcome the Mountain Tribe home with open arms."

T'Challa glances at the leader of the Border Tribe, W'Kabi's uncle. The man seems to shrink as he says, "The Border Tribe has lost your trust, my king. I have no opinion worth giving."

"That is a discussion for another day," he says, clasping the man's shoulder. He is careful not to let his claws prick through the vibranium-enhanced cloak. "You should go see W'Kabi."

"Not just yet. He can remain alone with his thoughts for a while longer." The Border Tribe's leader then narrows his eyes at Agent Ross, who is attempting to make himself look as small and unassuming as possible. "How do you explain _him_ , my king?"

"That will also be addressed later," T'Challa says patiently, mindful of the gathered crowd. "First, I must know everything that happened while N'Jadaka was king, starting with his actions at Necropolis. Yes, I know what he did to the gardens. How did it come about?"

Night falls as T'Challa slowly regains control over Wakanda. Nakia helps him find and personally order every deployed war dog to return with the shipments. He warns them to leave nothing behind; it was, after all, what opened the door for N'Jadaka. 

"Where is Akili?" T'Challa asks at one point. The Hatute Zeraze's commander is noticeably absent when he should also be here helping bring the war dogs home. "I need to speak with him."

"He was sent north to help deal with the protests," Okoye says. "N'Jadaka's orders. He did not appreciate Akili's… attitude."

"I wish I was there to see that," Nakia murmurs while scrolling through a report from Hong Kong. "Here. The last dragonflyer to Hong Kong left two days ago with thirty cases of…."

Nakia once told T'Challa that Wakanda was strong enough to help others and also protect itself. He wasn't convinced but that was before he ran into someone who suffered directly from Wakanda's decision to hide from the world. Convincing others that he plans to enact new policies reflecting this drastic change in perspective will be difficult, however, and he readies himself for the long fight ahead.

"Greater transparency in government will not solve these problems," W'Kabi's uncle says. "The king makes difficult decisions every day to protect his people— _not_ that your father's decision was the right one, even if he believed it. You must realize that not everything you do will be well-received-"

"I am aware of that," T'Challa replies more harshly than he means to. He imagines he must look intimidating while still clad in the vibranium suit and uses it to his advantage. He looks around at the other advisers. "But I know how the unrest began. I also know why W'Kabi chose to support N'Jadaka, and why so many of his men did not hesitate to interfere with the challenge. Are these not microcosms of a greater problem?"

The older man flinches. He does not meet T'Challa's steady gaze while asking, "And how do you intend to accomplish this without compromising Wakanda's security?"

"We will work something out," T'Challa says with tired patience. "Not right now, but soon. But we are no longer pretending that we are not who and what we truly are. There will be a conference at the U.N. headquar—"

His kimoyo beads suddenly vibrate, alerting him to a message from Shuri.

"Brother, Mother is here."

Hours tumble one after another until the moon is high in the sky and everyone is too weary for words. T'Challa feels it viscerally, having borne the brunt of the past month, and starts swaying where he stands while explaining once again that Agent Ross isn't a threat to Wakanda. The heart-shaped herb, no matter how potent, can't weave coherent thoughts for him.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to collect himself. "It has been a very long day," he tells the Council. His tongue is heavy and dry from speaking for too long without rest. "We'll continue this tomorrow. Agent Ross will remain under guard and in isolation until we decide how he returns to America without giving too much away."

The Council looks unconvinced but they are also too exhausted to continue arguing in circles about the beleaguered CIA agent. One by one they leave the throne room until only Okoye and M'Baku are left. Okoye looks as skeptical as Nakia's father did and keeps grimacing to herself while deciding what to say. M'Baku, meanwhile, has wandered over to the tall glass panes to look out at Birnin Zana's golden lights.

"Agent Ross has been here for over eight days now," Okoye finally says. "Akili lied to Ross’s superiors that he was in recovery and sent them falsified medical reports. Eight days may be enough to convince them not to look too deeply but you know what they are like. They may still be mobilizing to extract him as we speak."

He rubs his dry eyes. "Then arrange for Ross to make contact. You know the protocols."

"He'll need a cover story that can fool the gods."

"I am aware." He stifles a yawn. "Let's discuss this later."

"You look awful," she agrees. She glances at M'Baku and then gestures to the other Dora in the room. "Sleep well, my king."

"Good night, Okoye." 

T'Challa waits until the doors close and then turns to the windows and the tall broad silhouette standing before them. He wonders what M'Baku is waiting for but thinks he can already guess it. He walks slowly to the windows, feet padding silently over Wakandan dirt, wood, and metal. "Enjoying the view?"

"Did you know that on clear nights, you can see Birnin Zana from the mountaintop?" M'Baku muses. "It's a golden glow on the ridge, almost like a second sunrise. When I was little, I wanted to see it with my own eyes. Now I am here and… eh, it is all right. Is it always this bright at night?"

"No city ever truly sleeps."

He traces the skyline with his eyes. He can't see the stars like before, back in that room in the mountain stronghold overlooking Jabariland, and he can understand why M'Baku finds the city a bit underwhelming. To him, however, Birnin Zana is home and the city lights are their own stars in the sky.

He starts swaying again and his vision blurs despite his best efforts. He glances sideways at M'Baku and sees fine lines of exhaustion in his face; the Great Gorilla isn't faring any better. They both need rest. "How long do you intend to stay here?"

"For as long as we are needed," M'Baku replies. He quirks an eyebrow. "Are you that eager to be rid of me?"

"Just curious. I'm surprised your other advisers haven't called you in a panic, thinking you'd given yourself over to Bast without telling them first," T'Challa says and his heart thumps at the amused huff from the man next to him. "You intend to stay for all the meetings?"

"Yes. I will stand in the back, looming over the others and reminding them that we are always watching," M'Baku jests, though with none of his usual flair. He sighs and turns serious. "I know about our sister tribes. I do not know _them_. I do not know what it means to be a part of the Council, what it means to both advise and lead. So, I will stay here and learn."

T'Challa smiles, grateful for the effort M'Baku is willing to put into this. "There are guest suites. I know one that faces away from the city, if the lights bother you. I can also arrange one for Ce'Athauna-"

"She is with the others . I need her there to keep everyone calm in case people get ideas," M'Baku says. "Why don’t we take a walk through your halls, Damisa-Sarki?"

The Citadel halls are unusually quiet even at this late hour and M'Baku's footsteps echo loudly. T'Challa notices him glancing out the windows at the cityscape and at the artwork decorating the walls. A few of the pieces in this hall were picked by T'Challa's mother who found the artists' daring interpretations of traditional motifs, imagery, and themes inspiring. He wonders what M'Baku thinks of them.

T'Challa's kimoyo beads thrum and he raises his wrist to see Shuri's weary face. "Brother, where are you?"

"Taking M'Baku to one of the guest suites." He scowls at her arched eyebrow. "Don't you start. It's nothing like that."

"What? I didn't say anything," she replies. Her eyes narrow while searching his face. "You need to sleep. You look terrible."

"I feel terrible," he admits. "How's Mother?"

Shuri looks somewhere over her shoulder. "Tired. Sleeping. Nakia was here earlier. Fell asleep in one of my chairs waiting for you so I told her to go home. She said she'll be here in the morning to help you with Agent Ross. Something about staging a call to his bosses?"

"Can't have them getting too suspicious when we're not ready," he says. His mind wanders to the quiet conversation he had with Nakia the other night. "She never stops, does she."

"Is that a question or did you forget you were talking halfway through it?" Shuri asks. "Brother? Hello, are you there?"

He blinks rapidly and realizes he is standing in place. He glances over his shoulder; M'Baku is gazing at a mural imagining vibranium’s explosive arrival in abstraction while being watched by a bemused guard.

"Yes, I am here," T'Challa says. "Go to bed. It's late."

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "How old do you think I am?"

"It doesn't matter how old you are. I'm your brother _and_ your king, and I'm telling you to go to bed."

She rolls her eyes. "Bast save me from his tyranny. Fine, I'll sleep." She moves to end communications, has a second thought, and then loudly says, "Don't wear him out, M'Baku!"

" _Shuri-_ " T'Challa hisses but she just laughs in his face and ends the call. Face burning, he glances over his shoulder again at M'Baku and the guard; M'Baku looks mildly amused while the guard is desperately pretending not to be there. "Pretend you never heard that."

The guard actually nods before escaping down the hall, leaving them alone. For his part, M'Baku just strolls up to T'Challa with a knowing smile. "I grew up with Ce'Athauna. You think I don't know what it's like?"

"She seems so much more mature," T'Challa replies with a sigh.

M'Baku laughs. "Only because she is older than your sister." He glances at the kimoyo beads around T'Challa's vibranium-clad wrist. "She says I will need them if I'm joining the Council."

T'Challa tilts his head, frowning. "When did she tell you that?"

"While we were in the shuttle. She claims our bracers lack certain capabilities. Should I tell her it only takes a few modifications for these to function almost exactly like your beads?" M'Baku taps his bracer thoughtfully, seemingly unaware of the traces of dried blood still on it.

An argument is sure to be brewing over competing technologies. T'Challa supposes it is inevitable, but he's not about to have Shuri and M'Baku fight over it. "We can discuss this later, but she is right. It will make our lives much easier if you agree to use them."

"I did not say I'm refusing them," M'Baku says. Taken aback, T'Challa stops walking and turns around to stare. "Your sister alluded that accepting them is apology enough for what I did at Warrior Falls."

"So you're taking it back."

"No. I meant every word I said that day," M'Baku replies. "But this is a new Wakanda and I know it will be difficult changing the way things are. If kimoyo beads will help you, then I will use them."

A Jabari tribesman—the Great Gorilla himself, no less—using vibranium tech sounds patently absurd, but M'Baku is utterly sincere and it is suddenly believable. T'Challa is relieved that there won't be a problem and his steps are lighter as he continues down the hall to the guest suites.

"How much further?" M'Baku asks around a stifled yawn.

"It is not far," T'Challa replies. He looks up and down the hall, then spots a particular door. "This one."

Though well-maintained and well-stocked, the guest suites are rarely used except for specific occasions and so this particular wing of the Citadel is always quiet. This suite consists of a foyer, a receiving room, a fully equipped office, a bedroom with a balcony and a view, and a bathroom. Light panels along the wall and on the ceiling glow as soon as T'Challa opens the door and then adjust their brightness to the time of day.

"This is a much better view," M'Baku declares. He strides past T'Challa to the windows and peers out at the stars high above the dark hills surrounding Birnin Zana. "Are we facing south?"

"Towards Mount Bashenga," T'Challa says. He joins M'Baku and looks down at his golden city. "Does it suit you?"

"Yes." M'Baku looks south towards the Great Mound and Jabariland. "This will do, Damisa-Sarki."

"Are we no longer on a first name basis?" T'Challa asks, amused and a little disappointed. It is strange hearing the old name within these walls, stranger still that M'Baku is saying it even though they're the only ones in the entire wing. "Are things already so different now that I am king again?"

M'Baku shrugs. His smile is uncertain as he folds his arms and his gaze turns back to the city. "I don't know yet."

 _You doubt. Why?_

But T'Challa can think of a few reasons why. He is about to change Wakanda, undoing centuries of tradition and culture built around protecting their great secret. It will not be easy—it will be very difficult, judging by the various reactions from the Council—and no one knows if he'll succeed. It will be a turbulent time for Wakanda, and difficult for anyone to commit to anything until the dust settles. Bringing the Jabari back to Wakanda will also draw too much attention to them, creating a potentially fraught situation that could drive them apart and stress the currently delicate relationship between the tribes.

Being so acutely aware of the risks and consequences of one's actions is a burden T'Challa now truly understands. It is one M'Baku has lived with for years. T'Challa can't fault him for hesitating even after his declaration in the mountain grove two distant days ago. What they share is still new and malleable and easy to snuff out without hard feelings. That is not what T'Challa wants. 

"They don't have to be so different, you know," he says softly. He watches M'Baku's face in the window's reflection as he speaks. "I need someone who doesn't see things the same way and isn't afraid to speak up."

"You are surrounded by people who have no trouble telling you that," M'Baku says flatly and with an arched eyebrow. "Don't think I wasn't listening."

"You're the Great Gorilla. Your people are the Jabari. You grew up in the mountains, guided by Hanuman's wisdom. You offer a different perspective, something we need. Something _I_ need."

He can't read M'Baku's face. It worries him. It gnaws at his mind, his lungs, his heart.

"Are you saying this as king," M'Baku says slowly, "or as yourself?"

 _What worries you? What is making you hesitate?_ He searches and searches his thoughts but nothing stands out, nothing comes to mind—besides that book N'Didi lent him to occupy his mind. People retreat to their old ways when faced with the unknown. Is that what's making M'Baku doubt?

"I say it as both. You would understand that better than most." He sees M'Baku relax in increments, sees him slowly uncross his arms and exhale slow and steady. T'Challa takes a deep breath and echoes a sentiment spoken in the shade of great Jabari trees. "I don't want to lose this. We are both better for it, I think. We have become better people."

M'Baku snorts. "Most of mine would say otherwise. When I return to Jabariland, it will be to a reckoning... but I will face it. I will face everything they say even if I am forced to step down." He turns to T'Challa. "You are worth the risk."

"I… didn't know it was that serious," T'Challa says, alarmed. "If you are no longer the Great Gorilla-"

"They will have to deal with Ce'Athauna, and I _know_ my advisers like the idea of her being the Great Gorilla even less," M'Baku says and his smile is all teeth. "They're stuck with me."

T'Challa rubs his brow tiredly while M'Baku laughs. "I can't believe you."

"You are far too tense and serious this late at night." The bright mirth in M'Baku's eyes suddenly dims and he is a serious, solemn man. He reaches out and his callused hand caresses the side of T'Challa's face. "But I mean what I said. You are worth my people's anger. You are worth the battle we fought in your name. You are worth coming down from the mountains—twice. You see us. You _hear_ us. It is… it means more than I can say."

T'Challa sighs and leans into M'Baku's hand. He aches for the gentle touch, for the company of another person, for someone to lift his burdens for a little while. He needs it after this long, terrible day.

"I will continue to listen, I swear it," he murmurs right before M'Baku leans in and kisses him.

There is time now and M'Baku takes it, kisses him slowly and deeply until T'Challa is breathless, mouth numb and toes curling. When M'Baku draws back to breath, T'Challa chases his mouth and returns the kiss, leaning forward and up and sliding his hands along the man's face to hold him close. He is careful about his vibranium claws but when he drags them lightly over the back of M'Baku's head, M'Baku shudders out some unintelligible curse and drags T'Challa flush against him.

They stumble away from the window. T'Challa follows M'Baku without thought, so wrapped up in the kisses, the weight and heat of large strong hands curving around his vibranium-clad body. He collides with the bed and it takes a dizzying breathless second for him to realize it. It takes several more seconds for him to speak.

"It's late," he says against M'Baku's mouth. He sounds so hoarse and dry from weariness and from the kisses, from the large hands tracing the lines of his panther suit. "M'Baku. Tomorrow is another long day. I'm sure you need rest."

T'Challa steps back but M'Baku stills him with a hand on his shoulder. They know he can easily pull away but he doesn't. He doesn't want to.

"Where are you going?"

"My rooms are elsewhere," he says. "Where did you think I was going?"

"Nowhere. Panther king or not, I can knock you over with a flick of my fingers," M'Baku says, curling his thumb and middle finger against each other. "Wherever you are going, you won't get far. This bed, however, it's available."

T'Challa looks at it. The bed is large and low and the most inviting thing in the world. Still. "And what are you going to do?"

M'Baku has the audacity to roll his eyes. "Sleep. What else, foolish king?"

"I hope you don't call me that in front of the others, especially in front of Okoye and _especially_ in front of my mother."

"I will never embarrass you in public unless you deserve it," M'Baku says seriously.

T'Challa is the one rolling his eyes now, but he will probably take M'Baku up on his offer. He did want to see his old rooms again but they are so far away and now that he's not preoccupied with Wakanda, he can feel his exhaustion, the bone-weary ache that can bring him down with a feather or the flick of a finger. A bed will help him much more than crawling into the nearest available room and falling asleep in a dusty chair.

"And it would be nice not to be alone tonight," M'Baku admits quietly. His thumb strokes the side of T'Challa's face, tracing the curve of his cheekbone and lulling him. "I'm not the only one thinking that, am I?"

He isn't. The night will be full of memories and T'Challa doesn't want to relive them alone. He could if he must, but tonight is the kind of night to seek companionship and M'Baku is offering it.

"No, you are not," T'Challa says. He looks at the lights of Birnin Zana outside the room, the golden glow on M'Baku's face, and leans forward to kiss him.

"I will stay."

* * *

* * *

* * *

T'Challa walks down the curving ramp to Shuri's lab. Fully half of it has been converted into a greenhouse; rows of wilted plants sit under lights, surrounded by machines reading the soil content, the spectrum of light on the shriveled leaves, the humidity and temperature of the air. Shuri stands just outside the structure, wearing a white coat, hands jammed in her pockets. She is frowning mightily for someone who had just returned from another trip to their fledgling outreach center. She turns to him sharply as soon as he clears his throat.

"Brother," she says and nods to a workstation on the other side of the lab. "I need your arm."

"What for?"

"I need a sample of your blood again. Roll up your sleeve," she says, beckoning impatiently. "I have an idea."

He does as told. The needle mark smooths over two seconds after she withdraws it from his arm and he rolls his sleeve back down while she stores the vial of blood and places the syringe in a sterilizing unit.

"Well? What did you need it for?" he asks when no explanation is forthcoming.

"I was thinking about that plant the Jabari healers used to save you," she says while sliding her chair over to another workstation. "Traces of it should still be inside you. I wasn't looking for it the other three times but Dr. Ayanda gave me an isotope that tags vibranium particles. If I can't find it in your blood, I may need your bone-"

"Shuri."

She sighs and points at the greenhouse. "Look at them. Just one short trip to Oakland and they're all dying when I get back. They can't survive in the soil." She then gestures at several stacks of books and a pile of scrolls on another table. "Three days at the university library looking for _anything_ from Bashenga's time, and what do I have? _Nothing_."

"Our archeologists and paleontologists have nothing to say?" T'Challa asks. He leans on the table and flips through the pages of a book. "Is this a transcription of a Bashenga story? And it says nothing about the herb?"

"It's like playing a game of kimoyo beads with time," she grumbles. "The trouble is with the soil composition at Necropolis. Something about the concentration of vibranium particles there is poisoning those plants instead of-"

"I know, I know," he says before she could launch into yet another rant about mastering horticulture in less than a month for this one frustrating purpose. "So what about the Jabari plant?"

She whirls around in her chair. "Think about it. When you—when you fell, you must've suffered fractures, broken bones, punctured lungs, internal bleeding. All that on top of what N'Jadaka did to you. Burying you in the snow would've kept you alive for a while but that plant, whatever was in it healed the worst of your injuries. No lasting damage."

"Except I wasn't getting better, remember?" His hand twitches, wanting to touch his left side. There is no scarring and no pain, but sometimes he feels the deep gouge N'Jadaka left behind. He grimaces and curls his fingers tightly instead.

"But you weren't getting worse," she counters. "You were stable. That's a start. Who knows, maybe that plant was some forgotten subspecies and introducing it to the Necropolis soil will mutate it into a usable variant of the heart-shaped herb. Maybe-"

"How long will that take?" T'Challa asks. It is the most important question, more important than whether or not there will be another Black Panther to protect Wakanda after him.

Her expression becomes subdued. "I don't know. I need a living plant and Ce'Athauna says they still don't know how the white gorillas came across it. Maybe it's their food source? I've seen them. It could explain why they are white, larger, and stronger than other gorilla subspecies."

He rubs his chin, thinking. He knows how sacred the white gorillas are to the Jabari and will have to broach the subject with M'Baku very carefully. The Mountain Tribe is still restive over their new "alliance" with Wakanda and asking to track the gorillas in their sacred forests could create more trouble.

"I know it is asking a lot," Shuri says when he doesn't say anything, "but we are talking about Wakanda's future. Surely he'll understand-"

"That's not what worries me," he says tersely. "It is the real reason why we must recreate the heart-shaped herb as quickly as possible."

"Not as quickly. Mother is quite happy for you to go unchallenged for the throne for however long it takes to regrow the gardens."

He glances around the lab. "There will not be another N'Jadaka."

"And if we do this right?" she asks, glancing over her shoulder at a nondescript locked door off to the side. 

"I can't be the Panther forever," he says wryly. 

He looks at the door, too. He knows what's behind it, can recall every detail perfectly because nothing within it changed since he drove that dagger into his cousin's chest and ended what their fathers started. 

Shuri frowns. "If you tell M'Baku…."

"I am not hiding this from him. Tomorrow, I will ask him for permission to search Jabariland. And I will tell him the truth."

She sighs and shakes her head. She turns her chair around and pulls up a screen. "That won't go well."

He smiles tightly, thinking about a Wakandan sunset and N'Jadaka's final request. "No, it will not."

* * *

* * *

A fisherman found a man standing at the edge of the river.

Amadi brought his buffalo-drawn cart to a stop at the foot of the road. A man stood on the riverbank, watching the first rays of the sun touch the white peaks guarding Jabariland. He wore a thick brown coat in the Jabari fashion but under that were the refined dark clothing of a Wakandan. Amadi frowned; he knew of the periodic visits by Wakandans to the mountain stronghold but didn't think anyone would come down to the river where he made his quiet living.

"Can I help you?" he asked. His buffalo snorted impatiently and he patted her muzzle to calm her.

"I understand you made an unusual catch here a month ago," the Wakandan said. He spoke thoughtfully and there was care in each word. "A dead man, carried here by the river from the north."

"I did," Amadi replied. "He was the Wakandan king. He was taken to the Great Gorilla and Hanuman saved his life."

"Hanuman would not have saved him if you had not found him, malume," King T'Challa said, turning around to regard him with warm eyes and a kind smile. Amadi could not look away; he was a regal young man dressed in purple and black with a necklace of vibranium claws on his collar. He stood ankle-deep in mud and didn't care. "Wakanda stands united and strong because you found me."

Amadi didn't know how to greet him and so he bowed his head. His hands clutched his buffalo's lead rope tightly as he said, "I only did what was right."

"And I thank you for it," the king said. He strode out of the mud onto drier land and clasped Amadi's bony shoulders. "Glory to Hanuman, Amadi."

Amadi only dared to raise his head after King T'Challa walked past him and up the sloping path back to the main road. He looked over his shoulder at the panther king, Damisa-Sarki, and then up to the Great Gorilla watching them both. He swallowed hard, uneasy with so much attention paid to him and yet warmed by the simple show of gratitude.

"Glory to Bast, my king."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This being a very T'Challa and M'Baku-centric story, I hope I did the other characters justice. It was very difficult not biting off more than I can chew since this story was never supposed to become as big as it did. Wish I knew how to write a nice simple story that didn't take half a year to write/edit. 
> 
> You can always find me on Tumblr @ trashquisitor-shirozora. Thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Damisa-Sarki: Hausa for "panther king"  
> Hatut Zeraze: the war dogs  
> Amanzi Kwakhona Umlambo: Wakanda's main river according to _The Art of Black Panther_
> 
> According to Google Translate....  
> Baba: father (Xhosa/Yoruba)  
> Malume/aburo: uncle (Xhosa/Yoruba)  
> Kanina: aunt (Xhosa)  
> Umakhulu/Iya-nla: grandmother (Xhosa/Yoruba)


End file.
